


Life Out of Balance

by natsinator



Series: A Wheel Inside a Wheel [3]
Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Alliance!Reinhard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/M, Gen, Illustrations, M/M, Multi, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 129,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23038624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsinator/pseuds/natsinator
Summary: “Do you take my silence as an admission of guilt?”“What else can I take it as?”“Silence, and nothing more.”“I’m forced to imagine, Reinhard.”“Are you so painfully curious? Will knowing satisfy you?” Reinhard’s voice was bitter. “Must I put into words for you something that I don’t dare to put into words for myself?”Eventually, Annerose said, “Yes.”-------[This is part two of a longer work (roleswap AU), though it can be read first. Liberties, both major and minor, have been taken with the OVA canon.]
Relationships: Annerose von Grunewald/Walter von Schenkopp, Siegfried Kircheis/Reinhard von Lohengramm
Series: A Wheel Inside a Wheel [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650067
Comments: 83
Kudos: 68





	1. First Few Desperate Hours

_May, 473 IC, Odin_

Caribelle and Sebastian von Müsel were two average looking people with a less than average amount of money. What they lacked in excessive creature comforts, they could have made up for with love for each other, but that was not the case. They had married young because it had seemed like the most appropriate solution to their problems, and had stayed married because they lacked other viable alternatives.

They had two children.

The older child was a girl named Annerose. Even at eleven it was clear to people who looked at her that she would grow up to be stunningly beautiful. She had three true passions in life: embroidering delicate little images of flowers onto fabric, baking, and looking after her younger brother. In all things, she was fastidious and dutiful, and a perfectionist to her own detriment. When she found a flaw in her embroidery, she would pick apart and redo the section until the cloth was destroyed and the piece was ruined. When cooking dinner for her family, which she often did (as her mother usually had to retreat to a dark bedroom with headache and fever,) Annerose would stand over the stove, squint, and silently bite her lip until it bled as she struggled to resist the temptation to open and close the oven door to check on its contents, letting out the heat each time. She didn’t let anyone see her argue with herself; it was her duty as a woman, she believed, to be irreprochable before others, and to reproach herself for her mistakes. Where she had learned this belief, she wouldn’t have been able to say, but she held to it with a firmness that few eleven year olds hold to anything.

The younger child was the six year old Reinhard. Like his sister, he had an angelic look about him, especially when he was asleep. Sleeping, his blonde hair would curl around his cheeks, and his face would slip into the peaceful innocent expression of childhood. Awake, though, his blue eyes had a look that was incongruously fierce. He wasn’t a problem child, but he was too smart for his own good, and had difficulty making friends his own age. He preferred to spend his time with his sister. The two were joined at the hip.

When Annerose was born, there had been some talk that her two parents could not have produced such a baby. When Reinhard was born, though, that talk was forced to end, because the two children’s baby pictures looked nearly identical, and their mother was not well known for leaving her house. 

There was plenty of other talk about the family, concerning mostly the finances of the father, which seemed to be in a constant state of trouble. There was money, somewhere, but there was also an ever shifting balance of debt that moved through the town, stopping at each merchant’s house like an unwelcome guest. Someone uncharitable might have said that Sebastian von Müsel was borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, but in reality, he was simply acquiring money through the nebulous means of tugging on the strings of the family purse that had once been invested in Phezzani speculation, then spending that money a little too rapidly. As speculation is an unpredictable thing, and Sebastian was taking money out of the game without ever putting any back in, this situation grew less and less tenable as the years wore on, and his lenders in town became annoyed.

And so, with the excuse that the country air would help Caribelle’s fragile health, the von Müsels packed up their estate and moved to the countryside. They sold their house in town, used that money to pay off the most pressing of the debts, and then acquired a property that could be generously described as “a fixer upper”.

It had been a nice house, once: two stories tall, with graceful architecture and many windows, on a beautiful and large property. Unfortunately, its previous owners had allowed it to fall into complete disrepair, and it had lain empty and on the market for several years before the von Müsels took a chance on it.

They moved in on the hottest day in the summer, with a hired truck unceremoniously coming with their boxes of possessions and dropping them all in the center of the large living room, some stacked in such a precarious way that Annerose grabbed Reinhard’s arm to stop him from going near them, for fear that the whole construction would collapse and bury him underneath linens and pots and pans and books and whatever else had been worth bringing to this strange, new place.

At the time of their move, Sebastian had been the only person to lay eyes on the house. Caribelle had not cared to make the long trip to inspect it, and Sebastian had little patience for his children, so he alone knew the state of what they were walking into. Caribelle had trusted his judgement; this had been a mistake. When he took her upstairs to show her the master bedroom, a place with a cracked ceiling, windows that didn’t quite shut, and holes in the floors through which they could see the gleaming eyes of mice, the children downstairs could hear her first yell, then sob. Their father’s heavy footsteps stomped around above them, and each movement sent motes of dust or worse trickling down from the ceiling.

Annerose bit her lip. Her brother watched her as she looked through their pile of possessions, opened up a particular box labeled ‘bathroom’ and pulled out a bottle of bleach. She walked through the house, opening cupboards and closets and revealing long abandoned belongings of the people who had once lived here, eventually finding what she was looking for: a cobwebbed set of broom, mop, dustpan, and bucket. It was a good thing that these were here, because their father had not purchased any cleaning supplies, and both children knew that their mother, now that her sobs upstairs had quieted, would probably not be leaving her room to get anything, for any reason, for some time. It was the same pattern as usual, just under different circumstances. 

With the determination that could only be born out of complete resignation, Annerose hauled the cleaning supplies into the large and filthy kitchen. She had to start somewhere, so it might as well be here. She opened the tap. There was a shaking sound throughout the house, a rattling of pipes, but no water came out. She clenched her hands into fists.

“Reinhard,” she said, keeping her voice clear and free of any sign of tears, though her brother could gauge her emotional state better than anyone else, and knew that she was struggling. “Take the bucket and go outside. Check if any of the hoses work, okay?”

He knew that she was half looking for real help, and half looking to just be left alone, so he nodded silently and took the bucket. It was quite large, and it bounced against his knees as he carried it two-handed out the door.

The outside of the house was in a better state than the inside, but only by virtue of the outdoor world appearing pristine even in disorder. Vines climbed the side of the house, and weeds that reached Reinhard’s knees hindered his passage around the building, looking for spigots he could fill the bucket with. He found one, kicking down weeds violently to get to it, and he tried it. There was the same rumbling, grinding sound, but no water. 

Reinhard was a smart child, and he realized that there probably would be no water in any of the taps, but he had no desire to disappoint his sister, so he carried on his journey around the exterior of the house, checking all the hose outlets he saw. As he walked along the final wall of the house, he became aware that he was being observed. Peeking silently up over the top of the fence that separated the Müsels’ new home from their neighbors’ was a boy Reinhard’s age, with the brightest red hair Reinhard had ever seen.

The two boys stared silently at each other for a second, then Reinhard marched towards the stranger. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Siegfried Kircheis,” the redhead said.

“Siegfried Kircheis,” Reinhard said, considering the name. “It’s a common first name, isn’t it?”

The other boy didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, and Reinhard abruptly remembered a conversation he had had with his sister several days before: “You’ll try to be nice to the other boys, won’t you, Reinhard?” So, he corrected his course.

“But I like your family name. Kircheis. It sounds like the wind coming down over the mountains. That’s what I’ll call you.” Even with his best attempt to be nice to this stranger, he still had an imperious way about him, but he smiled.

“What is your name?” Kircheis asked.

“Reinhard von Müsel,” Reinhard said, and stuck out his hand to shake. Hesitantly, the other boy took it, and they moved their hands up and down in the charming imitation of grownup greeting that children sometimes did.

“Should I call you Reinhard?”

“If you like.”

“Then I will,” Kircheis said, with what seemed like determination. “Nice to meet you, Reinhard.”

“Nice to meet you, Kircheis.” It was a stiff and awkward introduction, but Reinhard was pleased that the other boy was following along with it. “Shall we be friends?”

“If you like.” Was it an intentional echo of his previous words? Kircheis’s little hands gripped the top of the white fence post as he leaned forward and smiled.

“Then we will be friends,” Reinhard said firmly. With that established, he felt as though he had at least one positive thing to report to his sister, though he still didn’t have any water, which was necessary for cleaning the house. He looked at the boy in front of him. “Say, Kircheis, now that we’re friends…” He stood on his tiptoes to peer over the fence, looking into the neighboring yard. He saw what he was looking for, a hose attached to a sprinkler system, and he pointed at it. “Can I borrow some of your water?”

Kircheis nodded, then immediately ran off towards the hose. With no hesitation, he disassembled the sprinkler system and dragged the hose over to the fence, where he draped it over the top so that Reinhard could fill his bucket. Without speaking, he ran back to the house and turned the water on. “Tell me when it’s full,” he called.

“Turn it off,” Reinhard yelled, when the bucket was so full that it was almost hard to carry. Obediently, Kircheis shut off the valve and came back over.

“What do you need the water for?”

“To clean the house.”

“Is it very dirty?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see?”

“No.”

Kircheis seemed to accept this, and nodded solemnly. “Will you need more?”

“Probably.”

“Should I wait here so I can give you more?” Kircheis seemed willing to do this, which didn’t make much sense to Reinhard, though it would be the most efficient solution for acquiring more water when he needed it. Again, though, in an effort to be friendly, he wasn’t going to order this other boy to stand guard over the hose until he might come back.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you need me to turn on the water.” That hadn’t been the question Reinhard had been asking, but the wide-eyed way that Kircheis was looking at him answered the question all the same. 

“Give me permission to climb over your fence,” Reinhard said. “Then I will be your guest, and I can turn on the water myself.”

“Okay.” He looked at Reinhard expectantly.

“What?” Reinhard asked.

“Can you climb the fence?”

“Of course.” To demonstrate, he put the bucket down and did so, though when he was laying across the top, swinging his legs over, with the pickets poking him in the stomach, he heard his sister calling his name.

“I’m over here!” Reinhard called, landing on the ground on the other side of the fence. Kircheis looked him over, then looked across the yard to where Annerose was coming around the side of the building.

“Reinhard!” she exclaimed, a false motherly tone in her voice that Reinhard liked. “What are you doing over there?”

“This is my friend, Siegfried Kircheis,” Reinhard said. “He has invited me to his yard so that I can use the water.”

Annerose leaned on the fence. “That’s very kind of you, Sieg,” she said.

“Kircheis, this is my sister, Annerose von Müsel,” Reinhard said.

Kircheis stared up at her with the same wide eyes he stared at Reinhard with. 

“I’m very pleased that you will be a friend to my brother,” Annerose said, with a real smile, despite the redness around her eyes, like she had been rubbing them just a minute before. She reached out, touched Kircheis’s red hair. He froze for a second, like a deer caught in headlights, then dashed away, running around to the front side of his house, where he vanished completely.

Reinhard looked at where the boy had vanished to, then looked at his sister and shrugged.

“Come back over here,” Annerose said. “I could use your help, I suppose.” So Reinhard clambered back over the fence and followed his sister inside, slopping water from the heavy, over-full bucket onto his shoes on the way.

* * *

_473- October 477 IC, Odin_

Although Reinhard had somewhat assumed that Kircheis running away meant that he would not see the boy again, and that they were not actually friends as he had proclaimed them to be, that turned out not to be the case. Kircheis hovered around the edges of Reinhard’s life, always seeming to appear at the fence when Reinhard stepped out of his house. When Annerose released him from helping her with various tasks (“Because little boys should have time to play outside,” she said) he would always see Kircheis look up at the sound of the heavy front door opening.

They played together quite a lot, though it was a more serious and stoic type of play than might be expected from other young boys. Kircheis’s favorite game was to act out stories from books, though he always let Reinhard take the leading role. Reinhard insisted on following the script as accurately as possible, as though there was some kind of meaning to be gleaned from this activity. Reinhard enjoyed these games-- slaying an imaginary dragon with Kircheis by his side, or investigating a fake murder with rocks and sticks arranged on the forest floor to look like a body-- though he personally preferred simple physical contests and games, racing or swimming or fencing with branches. He usually won these contests, no matter what the activity was, and he would often grow annoyed with Kircheis when he thought that Kircheis wasn’t trying hard enough to beat him. Kircheis did win, sometimes, and Reinhard would always smile broadly and challenge him to a rematch.

Even when they weren’t playing, they enjoyed spending time together. Annerose would prepare lunch, and the three of them would sit outside on a blanket on the lawn (now that the lawn had been mown into submission) and just lay back and look at the clouds, or talk about nothing and everything. It was the kind of summer blooming friendship that seemed like it should be part of every childhood, but such things are rare, and this friendship was rarer still.

By the time that September rolled around, and school began, the two were inseparable. School came with its own set of issues. Although Reinhard was used to Annerose leaving to go to school every day in the previous years of his life, he became somewhat distraught when he realized that school was segregated by gender, and they would not even be in the same building during the day, nor be able to see each other at lunch. 

It was only Kircheis’s presence that made the day tolerable. He didn’t like the other students, and he was too smart for the simple activities of class (he could already read and do elementary math), and so spent most of his day extremely bored. Relief from this boredom came only in the form of glancing across the room at his friend and watching what he was doing. Their eyes would meet across the rows of desks, and they would both smile, as though they were sharing a secret. Reinhard knew that acting up would not do him any good (the one time he had tried, Annerose had heard about it, and she had gotten so upset that she had actually cried in front of him), so he tolerated the days at school, as much as they felt like a waste of time.

In the beginning of the school year, he got into several fights with other students, some several years older than himself. He did not tolerate the kinds of schoolyard disrespect that were common fare in every classroom across the Empire, which meant that he retaliated when insulted, going directly for strikes that would inflict the maximum amount of pain with the least amount of risk to himself. Reinhard did not fight fair.

Whenever Kircheis saw that one of these fights was occuring, he would always rush in, yelling, “Reinhard!” At first, people thought this was because he was going to join in the fight on Reinhard’s side (as Kircheis was significantly taller than Reinhard was), but in reality, he often was the one to drag Reinhard away from fights that he was winning (or had already won).

After a while, the fights stopped. In part, this was because most of the boys in school had learned their painful lesson about teasing Reinhard. To Kircheis’s credit, though, he also had a hand in stopping the fights entirely, encouraging Reinhard to not sink to their level when insulted. The only insult that continued to have sticking power was anything directed not at Reinhard himself, but at his sister in the adjoining girls’ school.

Four years passed by in this fashion with a blink of an eye. By the time that Reinhard and Kircheis were both ten, they knew each other so well that they were a universe in themselves. 

Annerose was not a constant companion, because as she grew older, she was able to justify going outside and simply enjoying the day with her brother less and less-- there was always something more to do around the house, with her mother in bed and her father out in town. She sometimes demanded Reinhard’s help, and he would always provide it more than willingly, but then she would be overcome with a kind of pity for keeping him indoors, and send him back out. Reinhard would sometimes cock his head and ask if she was sure, but that only seemed to firm up her belief that she should be the only one who had to stay indoors.

Reinhard did not enjoy spending time in his house, feeling like he needed to sneak around his mother so as not to aggravate her perpetual headaches, and not enjoying the occasional glimpses he caught of his father, who either stayed in his study or was out of the house on business that no other member of the family could understand or predict. Neither of his parents were cruel, but both of them were distant, which left Annerose to take up any responsibility they might have had towards their son.

Often, though, she was lax as a parental figure, because she was a child. When Reinhard asked her permission for something, she usually allowed it, no matter how much it would have been inappropriate for any other ten year old.

In this manner, one of Reinhard and Kircheis’s favorite pastimes became going on long weekend camping trips by themselves. It was somewhat unclear to Reinhard how Kircheis received permission to do such things, but he never asked, and simply trusted that his friend would resolve the question with his own parents somehow. They would leave on Friday afternoons after school, carrying their school bags full of all the needed supplies, take the hour-long train ride to the closest protected forest, hike a while in, then set up camp. They would stay out all weekend. If it was warm, they would swim and lay on the rocks around the lake. If it was cold, they would just hike or run. At night, they would build a fire and sit around it until they were too exhausted to keep their eyes open.

They went camping like this the third weekend in October, 477 IC. It was already unseasonably cold, and the weather looked somewhat unpromising, to the point where for the first time, when Reinhard had asked Annerose to let him go, she had almost refused. But he promised that he would keep warm, and that if the weather turned too much, they would take an early train home. So, she had reluctantly agreed.

Reinhard packed his bag on Thursday night, gathering all his camping gear from the closet where it was usually kept, then lingering in the quiet hallway of the house, listening for the sounds of his family members moving around. His father was out, somewhere, and his mother was asleep. Annerose was making a pot of tea in the kitchen-- he could hear even at a distance the sound of the water beginning to boil. Feeling secure, Reinhard pushed open the door to his father’s study and snuck inside. The place smelled musty, and it was dark, with only a hint of moonlight shimmering in through the curtained window. The carpet was coarse underneath his bare feet. 

His father’s desk was an old wooden thing, too large to be easily moved, so it had come with the house when they moved in. He switched on the green-shaded desktop lamp, then pulled open the bottom drawer. He had seen his father open the drawer once, and had noticed that it appeared too shallow: a false bottom. Some other time, he had snuck into the room and peaked at what was inside the false bottom, having felt all around the drawer to find the clever little latch that would open it, and had found a blaster hidden in there. He didn’t know why his father had such a thing; he hadn’t ever seen him take it out of the drawer, but it had been nice to know it was there. Now, with nimble fingers, Reinhard took the blaster, tucked it in the bottom of his packed backpack, flipped off the light, and crept back to his upstairs bedroom, no one the wiser.

He kept the gun in his bag all through the day at school, told no one, and did not even really consider that this was a thing that he should not do. He simply wanted to bring it camping, and they were leaving directly after school let out, so it had to be in his bag, hanging in the back of the classroom right next to Kircheis’s. The day passed without incident. At the conclusion of the school day, he tugged on his jacket, took his bag, and left. He and Kircheis went to stand outside the entrance to the girl’s school to bid Annerose goodbye for the weekend, then they raced each other the half mile to the train station, bought their tickets, and shared a snack while sitting on the bench by the tracks, their bags at their feet and the cold October air biting their noses already. They didn’t really speak to each other during this time, or during the train ride itself. They had a mutual agreement that they didn’t like it when other people could hear them.

Kircheis had a book open on his lap, but mostly stared out the window, watching the scenery slide by, becoming more and more forested as they went. Reinhard read the book on Kircheis’s lap, with his head craned at an awkward angle, and every two minutes or so would reach over to flip the page. 

They had about an hour of daylight left by the time they arrived and hiked to their preferred camping spot, so it was essential that they worked together quickly to set up their tent and get the fire going. Kircheis gathered firewood as Reinhard pulled things out of his backpack and cleared the ground. He caught a glimpse of the blaster in the bottom of his bag, and, while Kircheis wasn’t looking, he tucked it into his jacket pocket. He didn’t quite know why he was keeping it a secret from his best friend, but he felt that he wanted to save the reveal of it for the perfect moment, which was not this moment.

They sat around the fire as the last vestiges of sun vanished from the sky. 

“We probably won’t be able to do this again until spring,” Reinhard said, with a combination of regret and honesty. Although the fire was plenty warm, the temperature differential between his front side and his back side was making him uncomfortable.

“Are you cold?” Kircheis asked, a look of concern on his face. He had been in charge of bringing the food, so he was boiling noodles in tin cups over the fire.

“Not exactly.” He prodded the fire with a stick, sending sparks flickering upwards, illuminating Kircheis’s flaming red hair. “I’m glad we were able to get out here, even if it is almost winter.”

Kircheis smiled at him. “Me too.”

“What should we do tomorrow?”

“Up to you.”

“You pick,” Reinhard said. “You always let me pick. It’s not fair.”

“I like doing anything,” Kircheis said. 

“Anything?”

“As long as you do it with me.” 

Every time Kircheis said something like that, Reinhard felt simultaneously warm and annoyed. “You know, Kircheis,” Reinhard said. “I could say the same thing. So you should pick. It’s even that way.”

Kircheis smiled. “Do you really want me to choose?”

“Yeah.”

He considered for a second. “We should go to the falls, then.” Two kilometers of hiking distant from where they were camped was a rather large waterfall. It was nicer in the summer, because then there was the opportunity for swimming, but it was a picturesque location all the same.

“You’re just saying that because I like the falls.”

“I like them too,” Kircheis protested. “And I don’t have any better ideas.” Kircheis was correct in obliquely stating that there wasn’t much to do on these camping trips besides walk somewhere and enjoy each other’s company, so it made little difference.

When the noodles were finished cooking, Kircheis pulled them off the fire carefully. He walked around to where Reinhard was sitting, and, rather than just hand him his cup and return to his previous place, sat down right next to him to eat, close enough that their shoulders and arms bumped. Reinhard reached up and gently pulled on some of Kircheis’s hair. “You look just like the fire,” he said. “Really pretty.”

Kircheis shivered a little. 

“Are you cold?” Reinhard asked.

“Not exactly,” Kircheis said with a smile.

“Should I give you my jacket?”

“It wouldn’t fit.”

“Really?” Reinhard asked. “You’re not that much taller than me.” He shrugged off his jacket and goosebumps rose on his arms. “Try it on.”

“I’m already wearing a jacket,” Kircheis said, but he took his off, and they traded. 

Reinhard immediately found wearing Kircheis’s jacket, still warm from his body and slightly too large, to be very pleasant. He pulled the collar of it up over his mouth, just for the feeling of being fully wrapped up and warm, but he liked the smell of it, as well.

Reinhard’s jacket fit Kircheis better than expected. Annerose had bought him a size too big, ever the pragmatist, saying, “Might as well have it fit you next year, too.” It was amusing for Reinhard to see his best friend wearing his clothes. 

“See, it fits,” he said. “Are you warmer now?”

“Of course,” Kircheis replied with a smile. “Did you want it back?”

“No, you can wear it,” Reinhard said, picking up his noodle cup from the ground and beginning to eat. “Check the pocket.”

Kircheis obeyed, sticking his hands into both pockets. His hand closed around the blaster, and he pulled it out, a wide eyed look on his face. He turned it over in his hands delicately, as though it could explode.

“Is this real?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“My dad’s desk.”

“Does he know?”

“Probably not.”

“You had this at school all day?”

“Yeah.”

Kircheis hesitated a moment before asking his next question. “What were you going to do with it?”

Reinhard looked into his friend’s face. “I don’t know,” he said. “I thought it might just be nice to have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” The questions were getting on Reinhard’s nerves a little, in the sense that he felt Kircheis was upset at him, and he didn’t like that feeling at all. “Are you mad at me?”

Kircheis looked between the gun and Reinhard, then held it out for him to take back. “Sometimes I think I understand you, and sometimes I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve never needed something like that before,” Kircheis said. “Why now?”

“I don’t know.” Now Reinhard was frustrated with himself, his own inability to express the feeling that holding the gun gave him, the sense of control, like he could take whatever he wanted. He took the gun and put it into Kircheis’s jacket pocket. “Does it bother you?”

Kircheis considered this for a long second. “No,” he said. “I trust you.”

Reinhard was glad that he had given it real thought, and was doubly glad that that was the answer that Kircheis had ended on. “Good.”

The conversation turned to lighter matters as they ate their soup, and eventually the flames grew dimmer as they ran out of collected firewood to toss on the pile, and their eyes grew heavy, so they turned in for the night. They lay in the tent, fully clothed, draped in the large camping blanket that Kircheis had brought, arms tucked underneath their heads as they faced each other in the darkness.

The only sounds were the wind moving through the branches of the trees and over the fabric of their tent, and their quiet breathing. Reinhard reached across the distance between them and pulled on a lock of Kircheis’s hair again, though he couldn’t see its red color in the near complete darkness. Kircheis shifted a little at the touch, which caused Reinhard’s palm to brush his cheek; he could feel him smiling.

“You trust me, Kircheis?” Reinhard whispered, though he didn’t know why he needed to.

“Yes,” Kircheis said. “Always.”

“I’m glad you came with me.”

“Would you have gone alone?”

Reinhard considered the question. “If I had to. But it wouldn’t be for fun.”

Kircheis nodded, Reinhard’s hand still tangled in his hair. “I’ll always come with you, then.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

Reinhard might have protested or asked more, but he was tired, and underneath the blanket was warm, and so he just nodded and closed his eyes. He was asleep almost instantly.

In the morning, Reinhard woke to discover that, since he had been slowly tugging the blanket off of his best friend, Kircheis had scooted right up next to him and had thrown his arm over Reinhard’s side. Sunlight was streaming in through the fabric of the tent, putting a warm, golden glow on everything. Reinhard stayed that way for a long few minutes, just watching Kircheis sleep, but a pressing need to get up eventually forced him to wiggle out from underneath Kircheis’s arm, not waking him up, and leave the tent.

It was very cold outside. The leaf litter on the ground was covered by a hard, crunching frost, and Reinhard’s breath rose in great white clouds around his face. When he went to go gather firewood, he realized that he was still wearing Kircheis’s jacket from the night before, but he had no real desire to take it off. Kircheis emerged from the tent when Reinhard got the fire going, woken either by the smell or the sound of it.

“Good morning,” Reinhard said as he boiled some water.

“Sleep well?” Kircheis asked.

“Yeah. Coffee?” It might have been inappropriate for ten year olds to drink coffee, but Reinhard had been helping himself to the leftovers of the pot that his father made every morning since he had been old enough to reach the cream on the top shelf of the fridge.

“Sure,” Kircheis said. Reinhard dumped two packets of instant coffee into the boiling cups of water. He passed one to Kircheis, and the two sat next to each other and silently held the mugs in their cold hands, feeling like they were gaining more nutrition from the warmth than from the beverage. Reinhard pulled out their container of granola and put it on the ground in between them, and they took turns eating handfuls.

The day warmed marginally as the sun climbed over the tops of the trees, to the extent that, on their vigorous hike to the falls, they both unbuttoned their jackets. They took turns carrying the bag that held their lunch. As they walked, they would devise little challenges for each other, like seeing who could walk more steadily across a fallen tree over a muddy depression in the ground, or who could make it to the top of a giant cracked boulder first. It never mattered who won, and they both laughed at the outcomes regardless.

Eventually, they arrived at the falls, water tumbling down over steep rocks into a turbid pool, then continuing on its way as a thick channel cut into the rocky earth. They both knelt down at the edge of the rapids and drank, hands going numb immediately from the ice water as they cupped it to their faces. They sat back and ate their lunch, growing colder now that they weren’t moving, so by instinct they moved closer to each other.

“I love this place,” Reinhard said, looking at the falls. “It’s beautiful.”

Kircheis nodded in agreement, though he wasn’t looking out at the falls, and was instead looking at his friend.

When they were so cold that they could no longer bear to sit still, they began their walk back to their camp, though Reinhard glanced back behind them at the falls with some regret. “We should camp here next time,” he said. “In the summer. Then we can wake up and just go swimming.”

“Sounds nice,” Kircheis said.

Their return journey was slower, and they spent more time strolling than they did running. This quiet journey allowed them to observe the natural world around them a little more. Without their crashing and yelling through the trees, they didn’t scare away quite as many birds. When they were about three quarters of the way back to their camp, Kircheis put his hand on Reinhard’s arm and stopped him from moving, pointing off the path and into the undergrowth of the forest.

There was a deer there, a doe, walking slowly by, about thirty meters distant, half obscured by the branches of the pine trees that surrounded them. The whole world seemed to still.

Reinhard’s hand closed around the blaster in Kircheis’s jacket pocket. He pulled it out, holding it with both hands in front of him as he took aim.

“Reinhard—” Kircheis whispered, clutching his arm.

“Should I kill it?”

“No!”

“What would you do if I did?”

Kircheis was silent. Reinhard glanced at him, saw the worried look on his face, felt his grip on his arm. Reinhard dropped his aim, then tried to hand the gun to Kircheis with a smile. “You take it.”

Kircheis hesitated and shook his head, but Reinhard kept offering it, and eventually he relented and slipped the gun into his own pocket. His hand went to it over the fabric several times, hovering as though to check that it was there.

The two stood and just watched the deer slowly meander through the trees, until a sudden loud bird call startled it, and it dashed off and was lost in the brush. They started walking back towards their camp again, even more slowly, this time.

“Why did you want to kill it?” Kircheis asked, voice so low that Reinhard almost didn’t hear him.

“Because it was beautiful,” Reinhard said, this reason making perfect sense in his own mind. Kircheis tilted his head, asking for further explanation. “I wanted it to be mine.”

It hardly mattered that they had no use for a dead deer, and would not have been able to get it back home, and that it would no longer be as beautiful once he had shot it—none of those qualifiers changed anything about the way that Reinhard saw the situation. He knew this as well as Kircheis did, and so Kircheis’s next question was different.

“Then why did you let me stop you?”

“Because I trust you.” That answer encompassed everything that Reinhard could have wanted to say. He valued Kircheis more than he valued the possession of a deer. He didn’t want to upset him. He knew Kircheis’s judgement was often sounder than his own.

“If I hadn’t been here, would you have killed it?”

“Maybe,” Reinhard said, and he looked away from Kircheis, not wanting the other boy to judge him.

“Even though you knew I wouldn’t want you to?” He sounded a little sad.

“How could I have known?”

“If you didn’t know that I didn’t want you to, you wouldn’t have stopped and asked.”

Reinhard considered this statement and found it to be true. He nodded solemnly. “Maybe I wouldn’t, then.”

“Promise me?”

“Promise what?”

“That you won’t do things like that?”

Reinhard stopped walking and faced his friend. He held out his hand, and Kircheis took it. “I promise I won’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy Kircheis, who shook his head. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Then what do you want me to promise? I’ll promise anything.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to force you to do things.”

“I want to do things that make you happy. Let me promise you something. Whatever you want.”

Kircheis shook his head, and Reinhard was stymied. “You shouldn’t just do things because I want them,” Kircheis said. Reinhard frowned and Kircheis continued, “Don’t you know the difference?”

“The difference between what?”

“Reinhard—”

“Kircheis?” Reinhard was genuinely concerned that he had upset his friend. He wanted to reach out and touch his hair, lighten the mood, but Kircheis was holding his hand in an iron grip.

“It would have been evil to kill the deer because you thought it was beautiful.” He shook his head. “Don’t you know that?”

“Oh.” Reinhard had not been considering that at all. He smiled. “Okay. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.” If Kircheis wouldn’t want him to do something, then it might be evil, so he wouldn’t do it. It was as simple as that. He was sincere in this belief, and it showed on his face and in his voice. “I won’t do evil things, then. I promise.”

Kircheis smiled in relief. “Good.”

“You trust me?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

They kept walking. Kircheis didn’t let go of his hand, but Reinhard didn’t feel any need to let go either, so their clasped hands just swung between them as they went.

Later that night, when they were sitting next to each other in front of the fire, staring into it, sitting as close as they could to it without burning themselves, Kircheis still was pensive and thinking about the afternoon’s incident. Reinhard could tell that he was, because his hand kept going to the gun in his jacket pocket, touching it over and over just to confirm its presence, and then glancing over at Reinhard, as if he were looking for something else.

“What are you thinking about?” Reinhard asked after a while.

Kircheis turned to him, the light from the fire flickering across his blue eyes. “You.”

“What about me?”

“Do you really want to destroy things just because they’re beautiful?”

“No,” Reinhard said. “I want to keep them.”

“But those aren’t the same things.”

Reinhard considered this for a second, and tried to put it in words. “If I kill the deer, it’s mine in a way that it can’t be for anyone else, forever.”

Kircheis hesitated. “There are other ways to have that.”

“Maybe,” Reinhard agreed. 

“And you want that for everything that’s beautiful?”

“Just the things I love.” Reinhard paused, and leaned closer towards Kircheis. “Do you think that’s wrong?”

“No,” Kircheis said. “Not those other ways.”

“Good.” He reached up and twisted one of Kircheis’s curls. “Kircheis…”

“Yes, Reinhard?”

Reinhard looked into his friend’s eyes for a second, then quickly leaned forward and pressed a fleeting kiss to Kircheis’s mouth. He backed off immediately, blushing, but said, “There. Now you’re mine in a way that can’t be anybody else’s.”

Kircheis touched his own lips with his fingers, as though confirming by some other means what had just happened. He didn’t say anything for a while, and Reinhard looked at him, with worry mounting in the pit of his stomach. 

“Did I do the wrong thing?” he asked, finally, after a prolonged silence.

“No,” Kircheis said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annerose can have little a personality. As a treat.
> 
> [Deer hunting] is something that can actually be so [metaphorical]. 
> 
> Title of the chapter is a mountain goats song because Of Course It Is.
> 
> Thanks to Lydia for the beta read. Leave me a nice comment to boost my self esteem, then go read my science fiction web serial: bit.ly/shadowofheaven . You can find me on tumblr as javert or twitter as @natsinator.


	2. Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short a Date

_ May 478 IC, Odin _

Winter passed, and spring came with the tender buds of May and a sweet smell of flowers on the wind. Odin’s vast swathes of countryside were idyllic, seemingly pulled directly from some painting. It was on a sunny Saturday morning that Annerose took Reinhard and Kircheis into the city. She needed to buy more embroidery floss at the specialty store there, Reinhard needed a new pair of dress shoes, and Kircheis had come because he always came. They had accomplished their first errand early in the day, with Reinhard marching along in front of their little group and leading them through the city with a surety that belied the fact that he had been to the city exactly the same number of times that Annerose had. 

Still, neither Annerose nor Kircheis minded following his lead, and he didn’t lead them astray, so by noon they had made it out of the craft store and into the shoe store. Annerose wasn’t obsessed with fashion, but she did enjoy looking at nice things, so she turned to Reinhard and said, “Can you pick your shoes on your own?”

“You can trust me to have good taste. And Kircheis can help.” 

With that permission, Annerose wandered over to the side of the store with women’s shoes, picking up and looking at all the dainty little heels and dancing slippers. This left Kircheis and Reinhard to contemplate the row of men’s shoes, which all looked somewhat identical. The store wasn’t particularly busy, so Reinhard and Kircheis were alone in the aisle.

“What size do you wear?” Kircheis asked, pulling down a random box.

“Seven.”

“You want black ones, right?”

“Yeah.” Reinhard also considered the long rows of shoes, but most of his attention was on Kircheis, who seemed intent on picking, looking at the displays and pulling open boxes to check their contents. After a minute, he had a couple boxes pulled halfway off the shelves to mark their places. “Did you want me to try those on?” Reinhard asked.

Kircheis nodded, smiling, pleased that Reinhard wanted to take his suggestions.

Reinhard sat down on the little bench in front of the mirror and tried on one offered pair of shoes after another. Kircheis helpfully offered his opinion on each one, and neatly packed the boxes back up when Reinhard discarded the pairs.

“How about these ones?” Reinhard asked. “I like them.” The pair in question was matte black, with a slightly pointed toe, and laced all the way up to the ankle.

“Do they feel good to walk in?” Kircheis asked. “I like the way they look.” Kircheis stood and offered Reinhard his hand to stand as well, pulling him to his feet. Reinhard didn’t let go of Kircheis’s hand, then glanced up and down the aisle to make sure they were alone. After confirming that, he lifted Kircheis’s arm up over his head, then twirled around under it, lithely testing the feeling of the shoes.

Kircheis smiled, but also glanced around nervously, and whispered, “Reinhard!”

“I think they feel fine,” Reinhard said at a normal volume. “Though maybe they need to loosen up a little.” He smiled at Kircheis and pulled on his arm. Kircheis allowed Reinhard to lead him in a few silly dance steps to the warbling store music overhead.

Although each one of them had their eyes on opposite ends of the aisle, to make sure that no one saw them, they weren’t prepared for Annerose to stand on her tiptoes and peer over the top of the shelves at them. “Reinhard--” she said, then processed what exactly she was seeing. 

At the sound of Annerose’s voice, Reinhard immediately dropped his hands and turned around. Kircheis took a step back. Annerose’s eyes narrowed a tiny bit, but she didn’t say anything about what the boys had just been doing. “Have you picked out a pair yet?” she asked.

“Yes. They’re nice, aren’t they?” He lifted one of his feet onto the bench and Annerose nodded. 

“We should get going, then.”

“Sure.”

Annerose dropped back down behind the tall aisle divider, vanishing from sight. Kircheis looked at Reinhard with a half panicked expression, but Reinhard just sat down on the bench and quietly took off the shoes. Kircheis handed him back his normal pair and stuffed the new shoes back into the box to check out with.

They paid and left the store without saying a word. Back on the street, Annerose didn’t say anything or act as though anything was amiss, so some of Reinhard’s worries subsided and he tried to communicate that lack of worry to Kircheis, to get him to relax his stiff back a little bit. 

They ate lunch outdoors, at a cafe on a tree-lined street, watching the city traffic go by and speaking of light subjects: what images Annerose was going to use the embroidery floss for, a book Kircheis had read recently, and what Reinhard thought the chances were that the flowering apple tree in their yard would produce a good crop this year. It was both mundane and pleasant, which further served to relieve the lingering tension, and they sat at the cafe until the waitress began to grow impatient with them. Annerose paid the bill and they were off through the city streets again, wasting time until they could catch the train home.

It was during this idle wandering through the city that Kircheis caught Reinhard’s eye and made a silent gesture with his hand at his side, an almost invisible thing, but it got Reinhard’s attention immediately. Kircheis was telling him to watch out, which never meant anything good. As unobtrusively as he could, he looked around, but he didn’t see anything amiss. He looked at Kircheis again, asking him to confirm. Kircheis nodded slightly.

“Say, Kircheis, what do you think the best time to go to a movie is?” Reinhard asked.

“Maybe around seven o’clock,” Kircheis replied. “That way, you can have dinner before you leave.”

“And desert after,” Reinhard said. 

“Did you want to see a movie?” Annerose asked. “I don’t think we’ll be back in time to have dinner before seven.” She was used to their odd conversations, and seemed to understand that there was some subtext passing here, but clearly didn’t understand what it was, because she didn’t look around, just down at Kircheis.

“I don’t think there’s anything good playing,” Kircheis said. “But then again, I don’t follow what’s coming out.”

They passed a store display with windows that had been freshly washed, and were so reflective that Reinhard was finally able to catch the person who Kircheis had indicated was following them in the seven o’clock position. There was a man, tall, brown hair, dressed in unobtrusive clothing, who was matching them pace for pace but staying a good distance behind.

“I don’t ever find movies very realistic,” Reinhard said. “Do you think it makes sense for the characters in horror films to split up?”

“They don’t know they’re in a film,” Kircheis said. “If they did, they would probably make different choices.”

“That’s true. They would probably try harder to protect the intended victim.”

“How would they know which one that is?”

“It’s usually the beautiful girl, isn’t it?” Reinhard asked, and he shifted positions in their trio, leaving the center to take up Annerose’s other side. Kircheis stepped in to fill the space he had left, and they flanked her like a guard. 

Annerose ruffled Reinhard’s hair. “The girl survives, though,” she said. “You’ve been watching too many horror movies. I don’t think it’s good for developing brains.”

“Only sometimes,” Reinhard said.

“What should they do?” Kircheis asked. “Run? Fight? Hide?”

“It’s always fight, flight, or freeze.” They crossed a street. Under the pretense of checking the intersection, Reinhard looked at their tail, who was still following them. “How much longer until we have to be at the train?” 

“Half an hour,” Annerose said. “We’re almost there.”

“Is being early a good thing?” Reinhard asked.

“It’s better than being late,” Annerose said, though he had been hoping that Kircheis would answer the question.

“It gives us an opportunity to do something in the train station,” Kircheis said. “Get a snack, maybe.”

“We just ate,” Annerose said, then sighed. “Boys. Such an appetite.”

“I do have to use the bathroom,” Reinhard said.

“Alright,” Annerose said. “We’ll walk faster if it’s urgent.”

Reinhard put his hand on her arm to stop her from speeding up. “You don’t have to rush on my account.” He didn’t want to draw their pursuer’s attention to the fact that they knew.

The train station came into view a little ways down the street, an inordinately fancy building for what it was, with huge columns and a wide set of white steps to get inside. All the trains were actually underground, leaving the ground floor level of the building as a kind of marketplace concourse, where one could buy tickets and tchotchkes and snacks.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Reinhard said. He looked at Kircheis. “If you move around, I’ll find you, don’t worry about it.” 

Kircheis nodded, and Reinhard headed off in the vague direction of the men’s bathroom. He made a pretense of looking around for where the specific entrance was, and saw that their follower was now sitting at a table watching Annerose and Kircheis from afar and not paying any attention to Reinhard as he slipped away. When Annerose bought a bag of pastries from one of the stalls, the man got up from his seat, walked to the same vendor, bought a coffee, and, while the waitress was busy preparing his drink, leaned forward over the counter to look at something. Annerose and Kircheis walked downstairs while he was doing this, which was a good and a bad thing. On one hand, it was giving them a chance to escape. On the other, it meant that whatever the man was looking at was more valuable than actually following his sister.

When the man finished paying for his coffee and turned around, he found Reinhard waiting for him.

“Why were you following me?” Reinhard asked, arms crossed, his tone as assured and demanding as he could make it.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Where’s your family, kid?” 

“I believe you would know that as well as I do. Why were you following me?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

Reinhard narrowed his eyes. “I’m not stupid, and I have a train to catch. Why were you following me?”

“I wasn’t following you.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t be so loud, kid. You’re causing a scene.”

“Good,” Reinhard said. “Answer my question.”

“I’m hardly in the business of giving in to the demands of children,” the man said.

“But you are in the business of following them down the street for over an hour.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“I’m never mistaken.” He put as much force into his voice as he could without raising it, punctuating each word of his question. “What do you want?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“I’m something of a talent scout.” Reinhard was nonplussed, and just continued to stare at the man, apparently succeeding in confounding him a little, because he continued to talk. “Was that your sister, you were with?”

At those words, Reinhard simultaneously leaned towards the man and put his hand in his jacket pocket, pretending like he had a weapon in there. “I don’t care who you are,” Reinhard said. “If you lay even a finger on her, I will kill you.”

“Calm down!” the man said, holding his hands up. He seemed torn between being amused and threatened by Reinhard. “I’m not going to hurt your sister.”

Reinhard stepped back, suddenly again the picture of composure. “Good.”

The man reached inside his pocket and pulled out a thick business card. “You can give this to her, though. She can call me. I have an opportunity that--”

Reinhard sneered at the man. He almost didn’t take the card, but then he snatched it out of the man’s hand, deciding that any information was better than no information. He stuffed the card into his pocket without looking at it.

“Well, excellent,” the man said. “I look forward to working with your family.” He reached out to shake Reinhard’s hand. Reinhard stared at it for a second, then turned around and stalked away, heading down the stairs. When he was far enough away that he thought it was safe to look back, he did, and saw the man continuing to watch him. Annoyed, Reinhard walked away even faster to find Kircheis and Annerose.

* * *

That night, after the whole von Müsel family had gathered for dinner (a rare event), Reinhard was sitting in the living room, reading a book, when Annerose stepped in to find him. “Let’s take a walk, Reinhard,” she said.

“It’s dark out,” Reinhard said, turning the page in his book without looking up.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Annerose said. “I would like an escort.”

Reinhard looked up at her, met her eyes, then closed the book. “If you insist.”

“Wear your jacket. It’s chilly out.” He obeyed, slipping on his shoes and jacket, following her outside. She took the big camping flashlight from the hall closet and swung it in front of them as they walked, the dancing beam illuminating the rocks on the ground. Annerose turned deliberately in the direction away from Kircheis’s house, though Reinhard glanced behind him and saw the light on in Kircheis’s bedroom window.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until they were quite far down the street, out of the area with houses and towards the water tower and woods. “Were you planning on telling me what was going on, earlier today?” Annerose asked.

“No,” Reinhard said.

“Ah.” Annerose paused. “Would you tell me if I asked you to tell me?”

“What are you asking about?” He was guarded and tense, but he wouldn’t refuse a direct request from his sister.

“Let’s start with where you went in the train station. I know it wasn’t the bathroom.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because twenty minutes after we got on the train, you went to use the bathroom there,” she said, and ruffled his hair, a gesture that he didn’t mind from her. “I have eyes as well as ears, you know.”

“There was someone who was following us. I made him stop.”

“Made him?”

“I spoke to him. I wasn’t going to fight someone three times my age and twice my size in a train station.”

“And the only reason you didn’t was because you were in a train station?” Annerose asked. Reinhard crossed his arms and said nothing. “Alright, alright,” Annerose said. “What did you say to him?”

“I asked him why he had been following us, and I told him to leave us alone.”

“How did he answer that question?”

“He said he was a talent scout. Maybe a movie producer or something.”

Annerose bit her lip. “Hm. You didn’t hear anything else?”

Reinhard shrugged. “He gave me his card, but all it has is a name and number. I wasn’t going to call.”

She nodded. “Alright.” They were silent for a second. “You know, you don’t have to do things like that.”

“I do,” he said.

“We would have been on the train and gone in a few minutes. You could have gotten hurt.”

“I would have been fine.”

“Reinhard…”

“Annerose.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“And I, you.”

“That’s not your job.”

“Nor is it yours.” Reinhard turned slightly away. “He was after you, you know.”

“I know,” she said with a half sigh. “You’ll understand when you get older.”

“I think I understand it quite well now.”

She looked over at him, taking in his tight lips and defensive shoulders. “You’re not much of a child anymore.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“But you’re still my baby brother. It’s my job to make sure you don’t have to worry.”

“But you didn’t even realize that something was wrong!” He found himself unexpectedly agitated. Perhaps that was partially because he hadn’t realized there was trouble either, until Kircheis pointed it out. “You could have been in real danger.”

“If he had gotten close to us, it would have been a different story. It’s alright, Reinhard.”

He frowned and didn’t say anything. They walked on in silence for a minute or so, but since they didn’t turn back around, there was still something Annerose wanted to discuss. Reinhard emphatically did not want to discuss it.

“May I ask another question?”

“You may ask.”

There was a long silence, as Annerose thought of how best to phrase things. “What is Seig, to you?”

Reinhard looked at the darkness straight ahead of them on the path. “What does it matter?”

“I think it matters quite a lot.”

“And what would you do if I said the wrong thing?”

“I don’t think what you say here has any bearing on how I will behave.”

“Then why must I answer the question?”

“Because I’m your sister, and I’m asking you.”

Reinhard took a second to answer. “He’s the only other person that I care about in the world, besides you.” He paused. “And if you take that away, I will have no one.”

“You would choose him over me?”

“It’s not a choice I want to make.”

“I don’t understand,” Annerose said.

“What is there to understand?” When Annerose didn’t reply, he said, “You’re my family, and I love you. Kircheis…” He took a breath. “Kircheis is the same as myself.”

“What does that mean?”

“How could I explain it to you if you don’t understand?”

“I’ve never known you to be unable to explain something to me before.”

Reinhard shook his head. “You already know what you think. To try to put it into words would be inimical to me.”

“I wish I did not have to think anything.”

“Then, don’t.”

“Things don’t work like that.”

“Are you going to leave it be?”

“Leave what be?” Annerose asked, paused, then continued, “What do you do with him, when you’re alone?”

Reinhard flushed, and was grateful to the cold darkness of the night for hiding it. When Reinhard didn’t say anything for a long time, he could feel Annerose tensing beside him. “Do you take my silence as an admission of guilt?”

“What else can I take it as?”

“Silence, and nothing more.”

“I’m forced to imagine, Reinhard.”

“Are you so painfully curious? Will knowing satisfy you?” Reinhard’s voice was bitter. “Must I put into words for you something that I don’t dare to put into words for myself?”

Eventually, Annerose said, “Yes.”

There was a long stretch of silence. “I kissed him. Once.”

“Did he kiss you back?”

“He would if I asked him to.”

“And will you ask?”

“It’s an impoverished love that makes such demands,” he said, ice in his tone.

Annerose knew that comment was much more directed at her than it was at anything to do with Kircheis. “I’m sorry for asking.”

Reinhard didn’t respond. At the next intersection, Annerose turned around, and they began walking back to the house in silence, scuffing up the dirt on the side of the road with their feet. It was a painful and stilted walk, with Reinhard nurturing a small anger at his sister for prying into his business. If she forbade him from seeing Kircheis, which she could try to do, it would be too much. He tried to trust that she would not do that, but he was finding it suddenly hard. She shouldn’t have asked.

When they were close enough to the house that they could see its lights, Reinhard finally asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Annerose said. “Let me think about it.”

“If you must.”

* * *

Several nights later, Annerose and Reinhard’s father came home in a very strange mood. Where usually he was either sullen and tired, or monosyllabically cheerful, on this night he seemed weirdly contemplative. He sat in the kitchen as Annerose cooked dinner, an unusual thing for him to do, as he normally retreated to his study and didn’t emerge until food was on the table. Reinhard took notice of this odd behavior, and as he helped wash the dishes and set the table, he looked between his father and Annerose, wondering what was going on. He was ignored, but his father kept his eyes on his sister, looking at her as though she was a math problem rather than his daughter.

Annerose, for her part, was uncomfortable with this scrutiny. She disliked being observed, but she could as much ask her father to leave as she could ask her father to sprout wings and fly away. They ate without speaking of whatever their father was thinking of, but this unspoken subject cast a pall over the meal. Only their mother seemed not to notice it, speaking normally about mundane things and complimenting Annerose on the meal.

After dinner, their father said, “Annerose, may I speak with you in my study for a minute?”

“Did you want me to clean up first?” she asked, indicating the dirty dishes.

“I’ll take care of it,” Reinhard said. She smiled at him, though the smile gave away her nervousness. She followed their father into his study.

Reinhard turned on the water in the sink, letting it run, then tiptoed down the hall and pressed his ear against the door of the study, hoping to hear the conversation. He couldn’t quite make it out; the door was a little too heavy, and they were speaking quietly. When he heard his mother’s footsteps approaching from behind him, he straightened back up and stepped away from the door.

His mother looked tired, and she spoke very quietly. “You don’t have to eavesdrop on your father, you know.”

“I wasn’t,” Reinhard said.

“Of course you weren’t. You left the sink running.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You didn’t turn it off.”

“I figure it was left on for a reason. My children may be smarter than I am, but I am not an idiot.” Reinhard didn’t say anything, so his mother continued, “I’ll speak to him about whatever this is when he’s done. Don’t trouble yourself.”

She put his hand on his shoulder and nudged him back towards the kitchen. He went, glancing behind himself at his mother who proceeded up the stairs, and at the ominously closed study door. He was washing the dishes when Annerose came out, eyes downcast.

“Annerose,” he said, catching her attention from the sink. She looked up at him, and the look in her eyes was so horrible, constrained, despairing, that he almost ran over to her. She shook her head ever so slightly, and walked out the kitchen door into the dark garden, not even taking the flashlight.

Reinhard continued to do the dishes, waiting for his father to come out. He did after a few minutes, and he glanced over at Reinhard. “Where’s your sister?”

“She went for a walk.”

“And your mother?”

“Upstairs.”

His father nodded, then went upstairs. Reinhard wiped his hands off on the dishrag, then, as quietly as he could, slipped inside his father’s study. He knew exactly what he wanted, and how to get it. As he ran his hands underneath the bottom drawer of the desk to open up the false bottom, his eyes landed on a little piece of paper sitting on the desktop: a business card, one that looked exactly like the one he had been handed by the man several days prior. Reinhard’s hand closed around the gun, and he tucked it inside his pants pocket and slipped back out of the study.

He crept upstairs. The door to the master bedroom was ajar, perhaps intentionally left that way by his mother, so Reinhard could hear every word that was being said. He flattened himself against the hallway wall, hand on the gun in his pocket, just in case.

“What did you say to Annerose, to send her out there in such a mood?” his mother asked, a very casual tone in her voice. “I saw her kick a tree, which is out of character enough to concern me.”

“It was good news,” he said. There was a squeaking sound as he sat down on the bed. “She’s probably just surprised.”

“Oh? What kind of good news?” Again, with the falsely light voice. Reinhard loved his mother, suddenly.

“I had someone come visit me this morning. He made me an offer.”

“Someone?”

“A man by the name of Bartholomew von Marcan. He called himself a talent scout.”

“And what did he come to see you about?”

“Apparently, he saw Annerose in the city the other day, and thought that he might be able to find a position for her.”

“A position? She’s hardly old enough to be employed.”

“She’s fifteen.”

“A child.” His mother’s tone had changed, slightly. This was a warning. Reinhard’s heart was beating in his ears. 

“She’s not a baby anymore. She’s of age.”

“And what does this position entail?”

There was a moment of silence, filled with the creaking of the bed as he shifted, and the rustling of fabric. “There’s a place in the Kaiser’s court for her,” he said, finally.

“A place in the Kaiser’s court.”

“It would be a wonderful opportunity.”

“An opportunity.”

“Yes.”

“And how much--” there was venom in his mother’s tone-- “did you sell your own daughter for?”

“Think of her future,” Reinhard’s father said. “She’ll have every comfort in the world. She’ll advance her social standing, and Reinhard’s. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“Is that what you said to her? That it’s an opportunity to help the family? To help her brother?”

“Yes.”

“Because you know that she would do anything if you phrase it like that.”

“She’s a smart girl.”

“She’s a dutiful girl.”

“Yes.”

“And, being smart and dutiful, she understands that her own father has just sold her, like a piece of meat. To be used by a lecherous old man for--”

“Do you want to be thrown in jail for lese-majeste?”

“There are some crimes that are far worse than that.”

A momentary pause. “She said yes, that she would go of her own free will.”

“You knew she would say that. You already took the money, didn’t you?”

“I needed--”

“You needed!” And all of a sudden, there was a crashing sound, something glass shattered against the wall.

“You!” his father yelled, and his mother yelped. A stumbling of feet.

It was at this moment that Reinhard pulled the gun from his pocket, flipped off the safety, and kicked the door the rest of the way open. His parents both froze at the sight of him, his mother backed up against the wall, hands out as though to protect herself. His father had grabbed the collar of her blouse. There was a shattered glass on the floor, the one that usually lived on his mother’s bedside table.

Reinhard calmly pointed the gun at his father. “Step back.”

“Why do you have that?” he asked, not moving.

“Step back,” Reinhard said again. His face was perfectly calm. “I will shoot you, if you don’t.”

“Reinhard!” his mother squeaked, and there was real fear in her voice.

“I heard everything,” Reinhard said, and she nodded. “What do you want to do?”

“What the hell are you saying?” his father asked. He released Caribelle’s shirt, who almost collapsed in relief, as though that had been the only thing holding her upright. He turned towards Reinhard, then, who kept the gun leveled at him. “Put that down.”

“How about you sit down in that chair?” Reinhard asked, very calmly. His father took a step towards him. Reinhard flicked the gun slightly above his father’s shoulder and fired, leaving a penny sized hole in the wall behind him. His father stumbled sideways in a pathetic attempt at a dodge and his mother shrieked.

“The second shot won’t be a warning,” Reinhard said. “Sit down.”

There was a fraction of hesitation, but then his father saw the look on Reinhard’s face and sat down on the stiff backed dressing chair, knocking off a couple pairs of stockings and skirts that had been laying on top of it.

“What did you want to do?” Reinhard asked his mother.

She was overwhelmed, leaning back against the wall and breathing rapidly. “I don’t-- I don’t--”

Reinhard turned back to his father, to allow his mother to catch her breath and regain her composure. “Is this already a done deal, in your mind?”

“I already agreed.”

“And money changed hands?”

“Yes.”

“And could you give the money back?”

“It’s gone.”

“I see.” The situation was crystalizing in Reinhard’s brain. “And what would be the punishment for defaulting on this?”

His father was silent for a moment. 

“If Annerose didn’t go with this ‘talent scout’...” Reinhard’s voice was cold and vicious. “What would happen?”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” his mother whispered. “They would come take her.”

Reinhard nodded. “But you don’t want that to happen.” He didn’t look at his mother.

“We can…” She trailed off. She looked at her son, and then her husband, and then seemed to come to her senses, realizing that her ten year old was threatening her husband with a gun, and that she needed to take control of the situation. “We’ll leave,” she said finally. “It’s the only thing we can do.”

Reinhard nodded. “Call Annerose inside.” He didn’t take his eyes or gun off his father.

His mother went to the window and opened it, letting in a blast of wet spring night air. “Annerose!” she yelled. “Come back inside!”

“Downstairs, in the hall closet where we keep the camping stuff, there’s a thing of rope hanging up next to the flashlight. Can you get it?” Reinhard asked his mother.

“You’ll be okay here?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, then left the room, leaving Reinhard to stare at his father in a tense silence.

“You don’t have to do this, Reinhard.”

He didn’t respond, nor did he take his fingers off the trigger, or the barrel aim off his father’s chest. He felt strangely calm about the whole thing. If his father made one wrong move, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him, and he wouldn’t feel badly about it at all. In fact, it was tempting to just kill him now, to save himself the trouble, but he didn’t. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that it would upset Annerose and Kircheis. 

Kircheis. He needed to talk to Kircheis immediately. That would have to wait.

His mother returned with the rope. “Did Annerose come back in?”

“I told her to stay downstairs.”

“Good. Tie him up.” She knelt down and did so, tying the rope maybe tighter than was strictly necessary, forcing her husband’s arms back behind him as she tied every part of him to the chair. Reinhard kept the gun on him at all times, and he didn’t so much as move, though he glared at them both with increasing hatred. Reinhard checked the knots over once she was done, making sure that they were secure enough that his father wouldn’t be able to bother them for at least a little while. 

“Shut the window,” Reinhard said. “We can open it back up before we leave, so that he can shout to the people who have come to collect--” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. “Don’t need him to starve to death.”

His mother nodded and obeyed. They left him in the bedroom, shutting the door behind themselves, and went downstairs. Annerose was in the kitchen, leaned over the sink, long blonde hair falling around her face. Reinhard stepped up next to her, tried to look at her, wrapped his arm around her. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head, and he glimpsed her face, saw that she had been crying. 

“I won’t let anyone touch you,” he said.

“You can’t control--”

“We’re going to run away,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.”

Annerose turned. “But he said…” Her voice was choked up. “It’s for you. I should do it for you.”

“He was lying,” Reinhard said, firmly. “I won’t let you destroy yourself for me.”

“It’s my choice.”

He would have laughed, if the situation hadn’t been so horrible. “Choice,” he said flatly. “That’s no choice.”

Their mother broke in, then. “Annerose, we’re leaving. I can get us away. I know… I have some old friends-- money-- a favor--” She was clearly thinking through all the possibilities as quickly as she could, thinking of what strings could be pulled, where they could go. Reinhard looked at her, saw the clarity on her face, and nodded. He would have to trust that she would take care of it, for now, anyway. He could take Annerose and hide in the woods, but that would have been the extent of it, which wasn’t so much a solution as it was a deepening of the problem. His mother had alternatives at hand.

“You should pack your bag. Whatever you need,” she said.

“Where will we go?” Reinhard asked suddenly.

She looked at him. “You know, don’t you?”

“Out of the Empire.”

“Yes.”

He nodded. Far away, but the only place that they could go. That was fine. His attachment to his homeland was nothing more than the attachment to Annerose and-- 

Kircheis.

He held the gun out to Annerose. “Hold on to this for me,” he said. “I need to go do something.”

“Where are you going?” his mother asked.

“I’ll be back.” Annerose nodded, and Reinhard headed out the kitchen door, into the cold night.

Kircheis was already waiting for him outside, leaning over the side of the fence as he had so many times before. “I heard the yelling,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

Reinhard jerked his head, and Kircheis nimbly hopped the fence and followed him, falling into step next to him. They headed towards the wooded area behind the house, though they didn’t go very far, just far enough that no one from either of their houses could see or hear them.

Reinhard paced back and forth for a moment before speaking. Kircheis watched him with sad eyes, illuminated very faintly by the moonlight overhead. Reinhard explained the whole story, speaking quietly and quickly, sticking strictly to the facts of the matter and explaining what was going to happen, that he was going to have to leave.

“I’ll come with you,” Kircheis said immediately. “I said I’d always come with you.”

Reinhard felt like his heart was falling out of his chest. He stopped pacing, reaching across the distance between them, and grabbed Kircheis’s hand. “You can’t,” he said.

“Why not?”

“My mother--” And beyond that, Kircheis had a family, and a life, one that Reinhard couldn’t demand he tear himself away from, just for his sake, though he wanted to so badly. “She wouldn’t let you come.”

“I could come on my own. I’ll stow away.”

Reinhard shook his head. “Kircheis.”

“I want to be with you,” Kircheis said, and it sounded like his heart was in his throat as well, childish voice full of tears. “Don’t you--”

Reinhard pulled Kircheis towards himself and leaned his head on his shoulder, hearing Kircheis’s breathing, feeling his heartbeat in the crook of his neck. Kircheis held him as though he never wanted to let go.

“I’ll come back,” Reinhard said. “I’ll do anything I can to make it so I can come back.”

“You’ll be a criminal.”

Reinhard shook his head, his nose bumping Kircheis’s neck. “If I’m going to the rebels…” He thought about this for a second. “Nobody should have the power to take my sister. If the Kaiser has that power… It should be taken from him.”

“What are you saying?”

Reinhard clenched his fists, grabbing Kircheis’s shirt in the motion. “I will destroy the Kaiser. From outside. And then I’ll come back to you.”

“Reinhard…”

He looked up at Kircheis. “Is that wrong?”

Kircheis met his eyes. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

“What should I do?”

“You’ll wait for me?”

“I want to help you.”

“Oh.” Reinhard smiled for the first time at hearing those words. “We can work together, then. Me from the outside, you from the inside.”

Kircheis nodded. “How?”

Reinhard thought about this. “The surest way to gain power is through the military. You should join. Go to officers’ school.”

“The Fleet?” Kircheis’s voice was hesitant.

“You can do it.”

“But then I’ll be against--”

“That doesn’t matter,” Reinhard said. “We can do this.” His voice was suddenly sure, as though having these vague fragments of a plan were enough to set the full course of both of their lives. “You and me. We can take the universe.”

“That’s what you want?”

“Kircheis--” Reinhard paused. “That’s what it will take, won’t it? For us to…” He reached up and ran his hand through Kircheis’s hair. Kircheis leaned into the touch. “Will you do it?”

“Yes,” Kircheis said after a second. “For you.” He was very quiet.

They stayed in their embrace for a long moment, then Kircheis’s hands, which had been on Reinhard’s back, found his shoulders and moved Reinhard away, ever so slightly. Reinhard looked up at him.

“Reinhard,” Kircheis said, very quietly. “Can I…”

“Whatever you want,” Reinhard said.

Kircheis closed his eyes and leaned forward. Although it was a closed mouth and childish kiss, Reinhard had both his hands on the back of Kircheis’s head and kept their faces together for far longer than was strictly necessary.

When it was over, Reinhard said, “I should go.” But then he didn’t move. “Annerose is waiting for me.”

“It’s okay,” Kircheis said. “We’ll-- we’ll see each other again.”

“Yes. I promise.” He still didn’t move, though, and just stared at Kircheis’s face in the muted moonlight. “Kircheis.”

“Reinhard.”

“Will you give me--

“Whatever you want,” he said.

Reinhard pulled on a chunk of Kircheis’s hair. Kircheis fumbled around in his pocket for a second and pulled out his pocket knife, a sturdy little red thing. He pulled it open and used the blade to saw off a chunk of his hair, which he pressed into Reinhard’s hand.

“You take some of mine,” Reinhard said, and leaned forward so Kircheis could repeat the move on his own hair, a very odd and tender feeling. “Now I’ll have a piece of you to remember you by.”

“You wouldn't forget anyway.”

“No, but I want to have it.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know.”

“I--”

They hugged again, then, each clutching the chunk of shorn hair, clinging to each other as though they would never see each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always did wonder where Reinhard got that gun from in the flashbacks. Anyway stealing it from his father makes enough sense lol.
> 
> The title is from Sonnet 18 (Shall I compare the to a summer's day), which seemed quite fitting.
> 
> Thanks to Lydia for the beta read. Let me know what you think of this so far :) . 
> 
> Read my original science fiction web serial for less holding your own father at gunpoint: bit.ly/shadowofheaven . You can find me on tumblr as javert or twitter as @natsinator.


	3. The Difference Between Happy and Content

_May 786 UC, Odin, Phezzan_

The journey off Odin was somehow both easier and more difficult than expected. Reinhard didn’t process most of it. His mother took care of the broad strokes of calling in favors from old family friends, distant relatives whose names Reinhard had never heard before and would never hear again, childhood acquaintances, a man his mother had known before she was married, any string she could pull anywhere. They spent a night on someone’s couch, Reinhard unable to sleep, staring at the wall, Annerose’s feet draped over his lap as she snored loudly, his mother sleeping in a guest bedroom upstairs. They rode to the space port in the back of a van of workers, Annerose and his mother dressed in uncomfortable looking janitor’s uniforms, with Annerose’s hair tied in an unflattering bun and tucked underneath a cap that hid her face. Reinhard, who was too visibly young to pretend to be staff, dressed in a school uniform that someone had given to him, and clutched an identification card that had someone else’s name on it, and pushed all their luggage on a cart by himself, and answered every question that came his way with such an imperious and self assured voice that no one dared to ask him any questions.

“Yes, I’m quite sure that I know where I’m going. No, I’m not waiting for my family. I’m travelling alone. Thank you for the offer of assistance, but I’m quite alright. I’m meeting my uncle on Phezzan.”

And so they made it into a departing merchant ship, and that took them away from Odin. None of the three of them had ever felt the pull of FTL engines before. Reinhard’s mother fell into a dead faint the first time. Annerose covered her mouth with her arm, and Reinhard thought she was biting it to keep from throwing up, as she ran to their mother who was slumped over in her seat. Reinhard, for his part, felt the movement horribly in his stomach, but despite the unpleasantness, it felt natural in a way that little else had, and watching the stars outside the little porthole was a pleasure that took his mind off what had been left behind, if only momentarily. 

He had begged Annerose to give him a piece of her jewelry, a little locket. She had relented, and Reinhard had tucked the chunk of Kircheis’s hair inside it. It was a girlish thing, maybe, but he wore it under his shirt anyway, against his chest, and he fiddled with it unconsciously as he looked out the window.

Although his mother had arranged the broad strokes of getting them off Odin, by the time they arrived at Phezzan, she was a wreck. Interstellar travel was difficult for anyone not in good health, and, in Reinhard’s lifetime, his mother had done little other than lay in the dark on her bed, not healthy on a good day. Although her willingness to go into action for Annerose’s sake had raised her in his esteem by several notches, that didn’t cure her general frailty. So that left Annerose once again in charge of the details. She booked them a hotel room, and, with the very last of their money, asked around after passage into the FPA. She found it readily enough. On Phezzan, as long as payment was at hand, no one asked too many questions.

It wasn’t as though refugees from the Empire were particularly uncommon. There was a steady stream of people going the opposite direction, as well. Most refugees in either direction got to Phezzan and then just stayed there. It was one of the easiest places to be, because anything could be bought and sold there, and for both Imperial and Alliance citizens, it was enough like “home” that they could be lured into staying. Annerose, though, made sure that they didn’t fall into that trap. She and Reinhard sat around the table of their dingy hotel room while their mother slept, and carefully went over their finances and situation. They had enough money for a trip out to Heinessen, but that sum of money wouldn’t stretch very far on Phezzan, especially since none of the three of them had particularly employable skills. Annerose might have been able to find work (again, no one on Phezzan would ever ask about age when hiring someone who looked enough like an adult), but, thinking over the types of employment that she could get, it seemed better to not linger. Besides, Phezzan was technically part of the Empire, which meant that arrest warrants could be served against them, if they were caught.

So, even though the idea felt more and more unpleasant by the second, they again boarded a ship bound for Heinessen.

Reinhard was alone in one of the ship’s hallways, leaning on the lip of the porthole window and looking out at the stars, when he was approached by someone whose footsteps he didn’t recognize. It was late, by the ship’s time, and Annerose and his mother were both sleeping. He had been unable to sleep, so he took a walk.

“Hey, kid,” the approaching person said. Reinhard turned and looked at the young man. He was maybe twenty, stocky, with blonde hair. He spoke in heavily accented imperial.

“Hello,” Reinhard said. He hadn’t met this man before, but he looked much like a younger version of the captain of the ship, so Reinhard presumed that they were related. “Konev, was it?”

“I’d say the one and only, but there are plenty around.”

Reinhard just nodded.

“Boris. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Reinhard von Müsel.” They shook hands.

“Where are you headed, Reinhard?”

“You don’t know the itinerary of your own ship?”

Konev rolled his eyes. “I was asking where on Heinessen you were planning to end up.”

“That hasn’t been decided yet.”

“So, no idea.”

“Do most refugees know where they’re going?”

“People are more likely to go somewhere if they know they have friends or something waiting for them,” Konev said with a shrug. “I’ve seen plenty of people go in either direction.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

Konev laughed at his childish assurance. “Well, the refugee intake people aren’t so bad. They’ll at least give you a roof over your head, which is more than you can say you have now.”

Reinhard nodded. “I appreciate their charity.”

“Hah. They’ll want you to pay it back, eventually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know.” Konev waved his hands. “They like it when refugees demonstrate their loyalty to their new home. That sort of thing. Make you look like you’re not just a leech, or a spy.”

“I’m not a spy.”

“Did I say you were? Look, kid, do you even speak--” Konev switched languages into what Reinhard recognized as the language of the FPA, but he didn’t understand a word of what Konev said.

“No.”

Konev grimaced. “You’ll want to learn.”

“I’m sure I will pick it up.”

“Yeah, better sooner rather than later. You seem like a smart kid.”

“Why are you talking to me?” Reinhard asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Hey, calm down,” Konev said, holding up his hands. “Can’t I be friendly?”

Reinhard narrowed his eyes. “You’ll forgive me for having my apprehensions.”

“What could I even be trying to get out of you?”

“Out of me?” Reinhard asked, the particular raise of his voice making the question quite clear. Konev laughed.

“Ah, I’m less smooth than I hoped.”

Reinhard crossed his arms and faced Konev. “So. What do you want?”

“How old is your sister?”

“Too young for you.”

“Jeeze, can’t a man get a straight answer? I’m not going to bother her if she doesn’t want to be bothered.”

“She doesn’t want to be bothered.”

“And you’re her spokesman?”

“Yes.”

Konev sighed. “Look, kid-- Reinhard-- give her my number, will you?” He pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket, on which was already written his contact information, as though he kept it prepared for just such an occasion. 

“You don’t even live on Heinessen.”

“You don’t need to live in a place to enjoy a person’s company there,” Konev pointed out. He handed Reinhard the paper, and Reinhard took it as though it were a dirty tissue. “Just tell her to call me, or something.”

“And why didn’t you talk to her yourself?”

“From the way you’re acting, I think that was a wise choice on my part.”

That made Reinhard nod. “How old are you?”

“Would you be more impressed by an older number or happier with a lower one?”

“You’re rapidly losing my goodwill and patience.”

Konev snorted with laughter. “I’m at the mercy of a twelve year old.”

“Ten.”

“Hah. Even worse. I’m twenty.”

“Then my sister thanks you for your interest, but politely declines.”

“And if I said twenty three?”

“Then my sister kindly requests that you stay far away from her.”

“Ah, so I have no hope, then.”

“Correct.”

“And she doesn’t get a say in the matter?”

“Do you honestly think her answers would be any different?”

“Well, she has more of a chance of being swayed by my dashing good looks.”

Reinhard looked him over, wearing an expression that indicated he was measuring the man like he might estimate the length of a rope. “Unlikely.”

“You are funny, kid, but it’s not really you I’m trying to impress.”

“Unfortunately, I’m the one you’re speaking with.” Reinhard decided that Konev was mostly harmless, so the tension in his voice abated a little.

“Alright, alright, I get it. Not interested.” He raised his hands again, in a gesture of surrender. “You keep that number though. If you ever need anything, feel free to give me a call.”

“And what would you be asking for in exchange?”

“You’d think me a poor Phezzani if I didn’t say money.”

Reinhard nodded. “That’s at least an honest transaction.”

Again, Konev laughed. “Good luck on Heinessen, kid. You’ll do alright.” He turned around and headed down the hallway before Reinhard could even decide to thank him for the maybe-compliment.

* * *

_May 786 UC, Heinessen_

Konev hadn’t been lying when he said that the refugee intake process was a smooth and well understood one. When they approached Heinessen, the captain of the ship declared the ship’s manifest over the radio, including their refugee status, and so when they got down to the ground, there was a tired looking social worker waiting there to meet them.

She was a thin lipped woman with grey hair, dressed in a boxy, professional looking grey skirt and jacket that was far less gaudy and more conservative than most of the other outfits people in the spaceport were wearing. Compared to the staid fashions of the Empire, the clothing choices of people in the FPA were odd, to Reinhard’s eyes.

“Welcome to Heinessen,” the social worker said. “I’m Xiao Li-min.”

Reinhard’s mother, who was grimacing in the bright lights of the spaceport, shook her hand. “Pleasure, Frau Li-min.”

“Oh, it’s an Eastern name, the family name comes first,” Xiao said. “Don’t see that very often in the Empire, but it’s one of the traditions we managed to hold on to over here.”

“Sorry,” Reinhard’s mother said. “I’m not used to these things.”

“Of course, it’s fine. Right this way, I have some things that we should go over in my office. These are your children?”

“Yes, Reinhard and Annerose.”

Xiao led them through the crowded spaceport into a series of offices, where she sat the three of them down in a well worn conference room where the light buzzed loudly overhead. She pulled out a computer and led them through a long, long questionnaire, filling out every detail of their reason for coming to Heinessen, their family ties in the FPA (none) and the Empire (none worth speaking about), their financial status (out of money), their education and training (none), their health (Caribelle’s was poor, Reinhard and Annerose were fine), and it seemed like every other question under the sun.

“After we’re done in here, I’ll send you to get ID cards and official identities. This might seem like a lot,” Xiao said. “But it’s actually a lot easier than changing your internal citizenship from one planet to another within the FPA.” She laughed, as though this was a joke, but none of the three understood what was funny.

“Refugees get special status,” she explained. “It’s not exactly citizenship, but you have full protection under the law.”

“What does it take to get citizenship?” Annerose asked, speaking for the first time.

Xiao seemed surprised at the question. “Oh! Well, not much. If you’re a resident for fifteen years, you can apply for it, and cases get put before a committee, or you can serve in the Fleet, that’s an automatic path to citizenship. But you’re a little young for that.”

Annerose nodded. Reinhard was glad she had asked the question, because it seemed that Xiao was being intentionally vague about what “special status” implied. Probably nothing good.

Xiao clicked through various things on her computer. “Since you don’t have any assets, I’ve been given approval to give you council housing and put you on a special assistance program, which will be good. You’ll be in an area that’s used to taking in refugees…” She said everything without looking at the Müsels, sucking her teeth and not waiting for any responses. This was all perfunctory.

“I’ll have someone come by every once in a while to check in on you, make sure that you’re adjusting well…” Some more clicking.

“As far as money…” Again, tapping through whatever long intake form she was using. “The children will get a special allowance, especially because you don’t have a husband. Ms. Müsel, you’ll probably want to get a job at some point, but the special assistance fund should be enough at least until you’re settled.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “Though I suppose I should mention, most people who come here have an opportunity to make a little money up front.” She dug through her bag and pulled out a shiny pamphlet that she pushed across the table. “This is a little bit of a, well, I suppose there’s no point in not calling it what it is, a propaganda show. Particularly photogenic people coming over from the Empire have the opportunity to go on this television program. You tell your story to the public, you get a little bit of money. It’s not difficult.”

Caribelle picked up the pamphlet and looked it over. “My story?”

“Well, it’s your daughter’s that’s particularly interesting, in your case. I think she would do well. In some ways, sympathy is a useful currency around here.”

Reinhard looked at the pamphlet in his mother’s hands, the downcast turn of Annerose’s eyes, the calculating look of the social worker. “No,” he said. “We won’t do it.”

Annerose didn’t look at him. “If it will help us…” she whispered.

Reinhard looked Xiao in the eyes. “Are people to be bought and sold for consumption here, as well?”

Xiao was startled at Reinhard’s sudden taking over of the conversation, but his mother was nodding slightly. “It’s hardly the same thing,” Xiao said.

“A feast for the public eye, rather than the private one.”

“Reinhard,” Annerose said. “Stop.”

He did stop, then, but he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, still resolute. His mother laid the pamphlet back down on the table and slid it back towards Xiao. “I think we can survive without the money,” she said.

“Your choice, I suppose,” Xiao said, though her eyes were slightly narrowed when she glanced across the trio. “Keep this, just in case you change your mind.”

* * *

_June-September 786 UC, Heinessen_

They weren’t exactly put in the capital city, Heinessenopolis. They ended up about one city over, a sprawling place called Wrightsville. Reinhard might have said that the city had seen better days, but he was sure, looking at its crumbling brick buildings, that it hadn’t. It had once been highly industrial, probably the manufacturing center for most things that went into Heinessenopolis, but as the FPA had expanded, the necessity for such centralized production had diminished, so the city was left with the unmistakable spine of industry, but wrapped in a skin of mere habitation. Old mills became apartments, but smokestacks still pierced the sky, and the sluggish river that ran through the center of the city, under trestle railroads and along dingy canal walks, was grey at best, occasionally punctured by patches of bubbly foam or odd colored dye as someone dumped something into the water.

If there had been places like this on Odin, Reinhard had never seen them. It grated on his senses. The buildings were tall enough to block easy view of the sun, which disrupted his sense of direction, and the streets were winding and confused, as though in the rush to build as much as possible as quickly as possible, people had placed buildings at random and the streets had tangled up around them. It was noisy: vehicles everywhere, and the hum of heavy air systems on every building, and the rumble of water underground, and the buzzing of power lines overhead, and the wind whipping through the buildings so quickly as to make them whistle. It smelled bad, like too many people crowded together; factories still working on whatever it was they made on the outskirts of the city; and the river with its peculiar and mercurial scent, always carried along on the wind, no matter where he stood.

Their fourth-floor apartment was not in one of the old mill buildings, but it was right next to one. It had once been housing for the people who worked in the mill, and so it was both ancient and without the luxury of having been remodeled while being converted from one purpose to another. It had two bedrooms, a combined kitchen and living room, and a bathroom which was no larger than a closet. It was furnished, which was a relief, though the furniture had seen better days. One window looked out onto an alley, another looked directly out at a brick wall that was close enough to touch when Reinhard stuck his hand out. The walls were so thin that they could hear rumbling and indistinct conversations from what felt like every direction, and baby cries pierced the air at random points.

It was such a far cry from their previous way of life that it almost made Odin feel like a weird dream in comparison. But Annerose approached their new situation with the same tenacity she had shown years ago, when they had moved into their old house, and she set to making the place liveable and some approximation of “home”.

They had originally thought that Annerose and their mother would share one room, and Reinhard would have the other, but, almost immediately, Annerose realized that her presence aggravated her mother’s headaches, no matter how quietly she moved around the tiny, dark bedroom. So, after about a week of this, without any discussion being had on anyone’s part, she moved into Reinhard’s room. He let her have the bed, and he took up a position on the floor. He didn’t mind; it was hardly any different than camping, and he found he liked having Annerose nearby much better than he liked being alone.

With their limited budget, Annerose procured a wardrobe for them from the nearby thrift store so that they wouldn’t stand out so much. Reinhard found the colorful and plasticky clothes odd at first, but then accepted them. For herself, Annerose picked out the most dour and conservative skirts and blouses she could find. If it was in an attempt to not stand out, it didn’t work, and if it was in an attempt to remind herself of the fashions of the home she had left behind, Reinhard couldn’t think that it worked for that, either.

Reinhard spent several days walking by himself through the city, shrugging on his colorblock jacket and walking out into the chill, but somehow still soupy feeling, late autumn air. He built up a mental map in this fashion: wandering, observing.

He stopped by the huge school building and leaned on the fence, with his hands tangled in the wires. On Odin, his class had only had maybe a hundred boys in it, and they had all worn neat little uniforms. Here, streaming out of the building in the afternoon in a great wave, there must have been thousands of students, boys and girls, screaming and yelling, dressed in every fashion on the planet. They passed by Reinhard without seeing him.

He took himself on an informal tour of the industrial part of town and jaunts to what passed for a city center, shops and restaurants. He paid for a movie ticket at an automated kiosk, guessing his best guess for what all the words meant, then sat in the theater all day, sneaking in between different showings, just absorbing the cadence and tenor of the language. On the ears, it felt like someone had taken his native tongue and turned it sideways. He knew the two languages shared a root, but the Imperial language, when it had been instituted and adopted, was a return to a purer form of speaking, an ancient tongue. This language had something like that at its base, but it was filled every third syllable with something jarring and out of place, borrowed sounds from elsewhere, long chains of mutations on the form. He would pick it apart and understand it eventually, but it frustrated him that it would take time.

Time. That was something that he suddenly felt he did not have. His life being uprooted had instilled in him a sense of urgency that he hadn’t realized he possessed. Where even two months ago, he might have been content to simply move on with the normal course of life, so long as Kircheis was by his side, he was gripped now by the certainty that if he did not make his mark, somehow, he would be trapped in this grey city forever. All of the ingredients for a great fire were coming together in his mind, though he couldn’t have expressed it in so many words. The feeling he got when he held the gun he had stolen from his father, the bitter anger about the injustice that had almost been done to Annerose, the loss of Kircheis, the rushing feeling of stardrive engines beneath his feet, the clarity of stars when out in space, and the total invisibility of stars beneath the smog and light pollution of Wrightsville’s sky, all of these things and more were like tinder and wood and gasoline and flint in his brain. He only needed to arrange them into the proper form to start a conflagration. But he had to wait.

After two weeks, a social worker arrived at their doorstep and announced that Reinhard and Annerose had been enrolled in the local school. She gave them packets full of instructions written in poorly translated Imperial, then told them what the start times were and who to speak to when they got there. It was as perfunctory of a visit as it could be, but it served its purpose.

So, on the next Monday, Reinhard and Annerose walked to school together. The school district packed everyone but the primary school students into the same huge building. It was chaotic, and finding their way around when neither of them could speak the language to stop and ask for directions was difficult, though Reinhard would not have submitted to that indignity even if they could have. 

They were both put in classes with students a year younger than they were, which Reinhard took as an insult immediately. If at least he had been put with his true peers, he might have made an attempt to make friends, but he glared around at the students around him instead, crossed his arms, and then pretended like they didn’t exist. Reinhard sat in the front of the class, wrote his name on the top of his papers in pristine cursive, stared down at unintelligible text, listened to the teacher, and put the language together in his mind, word by painstaking word.

After several months of this, both Reinhard and Annerose were approaching, if not fluency, then something close enough to be useful. They took to the language with enough alacrity that they used it at home, partially to practice, partially to have whispered conversations that their mother had no chance of eavesdropping on. They both still spoke with an unavoidable accent, though they each approached it differently. Reinhard said every word with clipped preciseness, enunciating every sound, trying to bear himself in a way that communicated he knew exactly what he was saying and how he was saying it. Annerose was quieter, more subdued, and she tried to disguise gaps in her vocabulary and odd tones in her speech by developing a kind of poetic and flowing work-around. She spoke around issues, said things by implication. Though this was as natural to her as breathing-- after all, it was the way that communication often was in the Empire, secrets half-spoken-- it was anathema to her classmates, who often didn’t understand.

“They’re just stupid,” Reinhard said one day on the walk home from school. “I understand you perfectly.”

“I rarely have had to worry about you not understanding me,” Annerose said. “But I do try to fit in.”

“Why?”

“This is our home, now. I told you once that you should try to make friends.”

“And you enjoyed so much what that did for me.” His hand went unconsciously to the locket tucked under his shirt.

“Reinhard,” she said, with the same tone she always used when she wasn’t quite sure what to say to him.

“Annerose.”

“Don’t close yourself off,” she said finally, though with a tension in her shoulders that Reinhard couldn’t help but notice.

When he decided he could speak well enough that he had absolutely no reason to tolerate being in with the younger students any longer, Reinhard marched himself down to the school offices and demanded that he be promoted. The counsellors there called his homeroom teacher, who gave halfhearted permission (“Go ahead and test him,” he said. “If he’s below level, he’s below level.”), and then had Reinhard sit down at a computer and take a placement exam to determine his correct grade level. They seemed certain that he would test low, but he instead tested shockingly high, so much so that they made him take a seperate test, on paper, to make sure that he wasn’t cheating. 

They moved Reinhard up three grade levels.

This was, most certainly, a mistake.

It wasn’t that the work was challenging for Reinhard. He could have handled any work that any grade in the school was teaching. The problem was that while in the younger class, the students had been content to either ignore him as an odd stranger or fear him as someone older, this group of students now perceived him as an explicit threat. He was an upstart, arriving young, unmistakably foreign, and in the middle of the year. This latent animosity might have been curtailed somewhat if Reinhard had been friendly, but he was not. 

Reinhard had, at least, over his years of knowing Kircheis, learned not to rise to most verbal provocation. It helped that the school was so large and crowded that no one realized that he had a sister, let alone that they could use that to make him lose his temper. So he suffered insults and only returned them in kind, or, if they felt particularly low-class, with only a mocking stare. 

Things came to a head one day in the pool locker room. The pool was in the basement of the school building, and the locker rooms smelled of ancient mildew and heady chlorine. They were somewhat labyrinthine in their construction, with a disorienting number of corners, behind each one a wall of lockers or a set of bathroom stalls, or a dizzying set of scratched up mirrors. 

His class had just returned from swimming. Reinhard was a strong swimmer, though not one with a lot of formal practice. The actual lesson had gone alright. Most of the students had enough sense not to cause trouble when there were teachers around, but after everyone had gotten out of the pool, Reinhard had been delayed in returning to the locker room because someone had summoned the teacher to adjudicate a made up dispute-- a claim that Reinhard had stolen someone’s towel. It was patently, obviously false, and the teacher let him go after a short moment, but Reinhard had seen the sly looks his classmates exchanged as they returned to the locker room, and he knew that nothing good was waiting for them there.

He walked back into the locker room already expecting the worst. He didn’t hold himself tense-- he was above that-- but he did hold himself ready, looking around the corners nonchalantly, listening to the echoing voices down the stained white walls.

When he got to the locker where he had left his clothes, he found someone had already opened it. He knew exactly how: the combinations for the lockers were all stored in a big binder that the gym teacher had in his office. At least once a class, some forgetful student needed to go look up what their number was, and it would have been quite easy enough for him to run his fingers down the lines of numbers and remember the code to someone else’s locker instead of his own. 

Reinhard felt eyes on him, watching him come to this realization. He made a little show of opening the locker and discovering that his bag was missing, then smiled grimly and leaned back against the wall, the metal vents of the lockers digging into his bare back. “I’d like my bag back.”

He didn’t see who had it, but there were plenty of boys around, a few years older than himself, waiting and watching with expressions that ranged from amusement to apprehension.

“And why should you get it back?” one asked, a brown-haired boy named Steven, who had a towel draped around his neck.

“You don’t expect to go to my next class in my swim shorts, do you?” There was a mild bout of stifled laughter from the back of the assembled crowd, but Reinhard kept his voice perfectly flat. “If I get a teacher in here, they’ll search you all. You should save yourself some trouble.”

“You’d run and yell for a teacher?”

Reinhard shrugged. “I don’t want to be late for algebra.” It would be a little shameful to go find a teacher, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t come down to that. He was just using it as a threat. Annerose would be unhappy with him if he did start a fight in here, and he wasn’t going to over something as simple as clothing.

“This what you’re looking for?” one of the boys asked. Reinhard didn’t flinch as his bag came sailing at him, the top open, one of his shoes falling out. Reinhard caught the bag and picked up the shoe.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said. He tried to take a couple steps out of the crowd of boys, but they formed up around him and prevented him from moving to a more private location to change.

“Aren’t you going to change, pretty boy?” Steven asked. Again, there was mild laughter, but this time there was an edge to it, and some of the people at the back of the crowd seemed distinctly uncomfortable. Reinhard didn’t expect any help from them, but he did find their cowardice repulsive. The least they could do was walk away, if they didn’t want to participate in this.

“I had no idea you wanted to see me naked so much,” Reinhard said, flatly. Again, snickers. Most of the crowd seemed to be reacting to anyone who had the upper hand in this moment, and the retort made it belong to Reinhard, if only for a second. He was still trapped, but he wasn’t cowed. If this was meant to humiliate him, it wasn’t working.

His primary tormenter decided that the best option was silence, and he put his hands on his hips, taking a wide stance to block Reinhard from leaving. Reinhard shrugged, put his bag down on the bench, and pulled out his clothes. He noticed, as he was doing so, something that made his blood run cold, but he was pragmatic, and he wasn’t going to bring it up until he at least wasn’t naked. The room was almost dead silent as he changed. He felt eyes on him, but he didn’t rush or stumble. Let them look.

He waited until he had his jeans on, his shirt neatly tucked in, and his shoes firmly on his feet before he said, “And now that you’ve had your show, I would like back what you took from me.”

“Anyone know what he’s talking about?” Steven asked, looking around at his compatriots. “I haven’t a clue.”

General murmurings, a mixture of genuine and false confusion, followed.

“You took something out of my bag. I would like it back.”

“And what is it that you think I took?” Steven was wearing a smug smile.

Although his strategy of being unbothered by attempted humiliation had been working thus far, he was too attached to the missing locket to remain unaffected. He spared a hope that the redness in his face would appear more like the anger that it was than embarrassment. “My necklace,” he said.

“Oh, I thought this was girl’s jewelry,” Steven said, pulling out the locket from his back pocket and dangling it in the air. He was far out of Reinhard’s reach at the moment, across the bench. Reinhard stilled himself, taking a breath to forestall violence. He would give one warning. “Didn’t realize it was yours,” Steven continued.

“This is your one warning to give it back to me,” Reinhard said, and held out his hand.

“What are you gonna do?” Steven was at least six inches taller than Reinhard, but that didn’t matter. He continued to dangle the locket out of Reinhard’s reach. Reinhard gave him three seconds, which would have been plenty if he was going to give the locket back. Since he clearly wasn’t, though, Reinhard was forced to take action.

Jumping at the locket would have been futile. Obviously, Steven would have just snatched it away. Instead, Reinhard threw himself over the bench between them sideways, faster than Steven could react. Steven’s immediate instinct was to protect the locket and stop Reinhard from getting it, but that instinct ended up costing him. At the sudden outbreak of action, the other students surrounding them backed off a little.

As Steven flinched sideways and pulled in his arm to his chest, Reinhard grabbed his shoulder and shoved him, sending him stumbling towards the sideways wall of lockers. Reinhard had another advantage: he had been allowed to put on his shoes. Steven was still barefoot on the wet tile floor in his swim trunks. So, when Reinhard shoved him, he had no choice but to move forward or fall, and he did move, throwing out his arms to protect himself from hitting the lockers. His hands impacted with a clang as the lockers rattled. Reinhard took another step forward as Steven recovered a little and turned around back towards him, trying to throw a punch with his empty left hand. It wasn’t his dominant hand, though, and it was clear that Steven had never been in an actual fight.

Reinhard dodged the punch with a hop to the side, which again put him rather behind Stephen’s shoulders, his intended position. Several students backed off even further.

Reinhard was done being gentle. He grabbed Steven’s wet hair, causing the boy to yelp, and slammed his head into the wall of lockers, hitting with his cheek. It was easy. Several students yelled or gasped in alarm as Steven flailed, trying to push Reinhard off of him. Reinhard kneed Steven hard in the stomach, still holding his hair to keep him partially upright. Steven’s arms whacked his chest, but without any real leverage behind them, they were about as ineffective as an open palm slap.

He let go of Steven’s hair, then, and the boy might have fallen, if Reinhard hadn’t grasped his right wrist, the hand holding the locket, and jammed it into one of the open lockers. He stomped on Steven’s bare foot, causing the boy to yell, then slammed the locker door shut on Steven’s hand, as hard as he could. After the first hit, Steven unclenched his fist, dropping the locket, but Reinhard didn’t see that; all he could feel was Steven trying to pull his hand out of his grip, so he smashed the locker door closed again, this time directly onto Steven’s fingers.

There was a sickening feeling of something giving, and the scream that Steven let out was blood curdling. He dropped to the floor and Reinhard let him go. He cradled his hand to his chest, blood welling out of a deep gash across the backs of his pinky and ring fingers, which were bent at a wrong angle. Reinhard picked up the locket from the bottom of the locker, slipped it over his neck and underneath his shirt, grabbed his backpack, and stepped over the crying Steven, leaving the locker room under the shocked and horrified stares of his classmates.

He went to algebra as though nothing was wrong, but after sitting in class for about fifteen minutes, the phone on the wall of the classroom rang, and the teacher answered it and looked at Reinhard with an odd look. He stared back at her impassively, though his hand went to the locket under his shirt. “He’s here,” she said. A pause. “I doubt that’s necessary. No, everything is fine. Alright. I’ll send him down.” She hung up the phone. “Reinhard, main office wants you.”

He nodded and gathered all his belongings. “Can you give me the homework?” he asked. She handed him a packet, which he tucked into his backpack. He nodded at her curtly, then left, walking down the silent hallways towards the main office.

He was perfectly calm when he got there, which seemed to do more to disconcert the mass of adults more than anything. They had him sit in a small meeting room as they discussed what to do with him outside. He took out his math homework and did it, just to fill the time.

When the principal and the gym teacher came in to ask him questions, he didn’t bother to deny anything that he had done. He described the fight, though it had been very one sided, in clinical detail when they asked.

“Why did you do that?” the principal asked.

“He had taken something that belonged to me,” Reinhard said. “I determined that was the most likely way of getting it back. You can ask anyone who was there.” He named several of the students he thought were most likely to give an honest recounting of events: the cowards who had stood in the back and watched. They were no friends of his, but they might be useful, and feel guilty.

“We’ll interview them,” the principal said. “But right now, I’m asking for your side of the story.”

“That’s all there is. I retaliated when provoked.”

“You could have come to me,” the gym teacher said. “There’s no need to resort to violence.”

Reinhard said nothing in response to that. It was laughably false, but there was no reason to waste effort explaining it. After a long moment of silence, the principal said, “We’re going to call your mother to discuss punishment.”

“She doesn’t speak your language.”

The principal and gym teacher glanced at each other. “Do we have a translator?” the gym teacher asked.

“We could call his social worker…”

“My sister will translate for you,” Reinhard said. It wasn’t as though Annerose wouldn’t find out about this eventually. He glanced at the clock. “She’s in chorus right now.”

Though it was clear from their faces that they didn’t want to involve another student, specifically one who was likely to be partial, they didn’t have much of a choice without calling in outside help. They left Reinhard alone in the room again, and a minute later, he heard them call her name over the muted crackle of the intercom.

A few minutes later, he heard her speaking to them, just outside the door, and could clearly picture how she would look, furious and disappointed but hiding it. That hurt Reinhard more than whatever punishment he was about to receive was. Not that she was angry at him for fighting, really, but more that she probably wouldn’t understand his reason for fighting. He had tried, for her sake, and for Kircheis’s, to curtail his worst instincts, but there were some lines he could not allow to be crossed. This had been one of them, and he felt like he had taken care of it as swiftly and as cleanly as he could. 

The principal and Annerose came back into the room, then, and Annerose stared at him with such a sad expression that Reinhard wanted to apologize to her immediately, but he didn’t. He could try to explain later, when they were alone, but she probably wouldn’t understand. 

The principal poked at the conference phone in the center of the table, dialing their mother’s number on file. She answered with a heavily accented, “Hello?”

“Ms. Müsel, this is Jennifer Waterstone, the principal of Wrightville General School III. I’m here with your son and daughter. Annerose will be translating for us.”

Annerose did faithfully translate this sentence into the Imperial language, though there was a quiver in her voice.

“Is there something wrong?” their mother asked.

“I’m sorry to report that Reinhard was involved in a fight with another student,” Waterstone said. 

“Is he hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Reinhard said, first in the Imperial language, then repeated it in the Alliance’s language for Waterstone’s benefit.

“Oh. That’s good,” his mother said. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I am glad that Reinhard was not injured,” Waterstone said, “but the fact remains that another child was.”

“What did he do?”

“I am not at liberty to give out confidential medical information.”

“I think I broke two of his fingers,” Reinhard said, in the Imperial language. “I didn’t look closely.”

Annerose paled. Her hands, which had been sitting on the table, curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were white, and her fingernails dug into her palms.

“What did he say?” Waterstone asked.

“He said he broke two of the other boy’s fingers.”

“What were they fighting over?”

“Nothing, mother,” Reinhard said. Annerose helpfully translated this before Waterstone could even ask.

“I find it hard to believe it was ‘nothing’, Reinhard.”

“Then I fought him so that no one else would bother me,” Reinhard said, resisting the urge to grit his teeth. It was true, in a way, but that had not been the motivation on his mind when he had smashed Steven into the lockers. It was just an added benefit.

“Fighting is not a way to solve problems,” Waterstone said. Reinhard resisted the urge to laugh. That was a funny thing to say when one lived in a society that had been at war for functionally its entire existence. “And even if it were, it is completely unacceptable to hurt another student, especially that severely.”

“Are you expelling him?”

Waterstone tapped a pen on the table. “For incidents on this scale, we have a three strikes system. No, Reinhard will be allowed to stay in school, though he will be suspended for one week. This will go on his permanent record, however.”

“Oh. Well, that’s fine, then.”

“Ms. Müsel, I’m not sure that you’re taking this with the seriousness that it deserves.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Waterstone,” she said, voice dry and tight over the phone. “Please do not take this as me being lenient on my son, but I believe I have a fairly good idea of what he is capable of. The fact that he has made it this far into the school year without any prior incident…” She trailed off, as though she had lost her train of thought.

“In my years as administrator here, I have rarely seen an injury this severe with no sign of remorse from the perpetrator,” Waterstone said. Her face was slightly flushed.

“Were you expecting me to apologize?” Reinhard asked.

“No, you’re going to be kept as far away from him as possible.”

“Why? I’m not going to bother him.” As far as he was concerned, the matter was over and dealt with. He didn’t want to rearrange his class schedule, because it felt like it would be a pain. He had just gotten put in these classes. “And I assume he won’t bother me.”

Waterstone pinched the bridge of her nose. “If something did happen, and I had failed to separate you, the school would be held liable.”

The whole thing, Reinhard found funny, on some level. If this incident had happened at his old school, on Odin, he probably would have been simply whipped by the teacher, and that would have been the end of it. The fact that he was essentially getting a week’s vacation seemed like no kind of punishment at all. It was just one of the odd ways that life here was different.

The principal continued to speak to his mother, and Annerose continued to translate and grow more and more agitated, just below her skin, but Reinhard decided that there was very little more to be gained from the conversation, so he let it go by him without contributing. Eventually, the prolonged conversation ended. The whole thing could have been said as just a statement of facts, but for some reason, Waterstone wanted to pry into how his mother felt about all of this. It was clear how she felt: on the scale of things that Reinhard was capable of, fighting another student was rather low on the list. She had seen him nearly shoot his own father, after all.

It was only a little while before the end of the school day, so while Annerose was sent back to class to gather her belongings, Reinhard was confined to the little conference room until the bell rang, and then he was released to the city streets. He waited by the fence for Annerose, who saw him and walked with him, but did not speak to him at first.

It was difficult, walking through the city back to their apartment, to speak. Reinhard wanted the privacy of speaking their native tongue, but Annerose always hated to do that in public, because it attracted more attention than it deflected. He was forced to wait until they were back at home. He wondered if his mother would want to talk to him, but her door was closed, and, listening closely, he could hear the even sound of her sleep-breathing, so the answer was probably no.

He sat at the little kitchen table, then, and waited for Annerose to say something. She leaned over the sink, hair falling loosely over her face in a curtain, blocking his view of her.

“Explain to me,” she said, very quietly, and in the Alliance language, “what made you break a child’s fingers.”

“You won’t like my reasons.”

“I like even less the idea that you would do it for no reason.”

So, for the second time that day, Reinhard explained the fight, starting with a brief mention of the animosity his classmates had had towards him since he joined the class, then the whole scene in the bathroom. It surprised him, but Annerose flinched a little when he described the attempted humiliation of making him change in front of everyone else, though that had bothered Reinhard the least. 

“I did try not to fight,” he said finally. “But it was going to come eventually. So I ended it as quickly as possible.”

Annerose was silent for a long minute. 

“Are you upset at me still?” Reinhard asked.

“Why can’t you keep your head down?” she asked. “Why can’t you be…”

“Normal?” 

Annerose stiffened, then nodded fractionally. “I just want you to have a future.”

This statement made no sense to Reinhard. “I have one.” He was planning to seize it, whenever the opportunity arose. This was a step on that path.

“This is on your permanent record. It’s a black mark that’s going to be attached to your name forever.”

“So?”

“This is our home. We have to try.”

“I am trying.”

“If you get into fights, they are going to kick you out. And then where will you be?”

“Why would that matter?”

“Reinhard!” He fell silent, and Annerose turned towards him, eyes red. “I don’t know what you think your future looks like, but I wake up every day terrified that you’re going to throw it away over some short sighted-- awful-- stupid--” She took a deep breath. “I would do anything for you, and you want to-- I don’t even know what it is you want. I--”

She stopped when she saw Reinhard contemplatively fiddling with the locket. “What do you want me to be?” Reinhard asked. “If you want me to try, I’ll try. I do try. For you.”

“I don’t know,” Annerose said. She sounded almost defeated, perhaps by the sight of Reinhard twisting the chain of the locket around his finger. “I’m afraid—”

“Of what?”

“I could demand something of you that you can’t give. And then we’ll both start to resent each other for it.”

“The fact that you aren’t means that I can trust that you won’t.” Reinhard paused. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

“Whatever you like.”

“Then it’s not a true apology.”

“Perhaps. But wouldn’t it be better than nothing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry for fighting, then, because it upsets you. And I’m sorry that you want things from me that you know I can’t give you.”

“I don’t want it for me,” Annerose said. “I just want… I want you to be happy. Content.”

“There is a world of difference between those two things.”

“I’m worried that you won’t be either, if you keep going on the path you’re on.”

“I know how to be happy,” Reinhard said.

Annerose shook her head. “But are you?”

“Having you around makes me happy.”

“I’m not the only thing, though.”

“Of course not.”

“And I’m not enough.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“I want to be. If that’s what it takes to stop you from—“ She shook her head.

“And what makes you happy?” Reinhard asked.

“We’re not talking about me.”

“We’re not?” Reinhard stared at her, though she didn’t meet his eyes. “You fear that I want too much. Should I fear that you want too little?”

“Stop it,” she said, and her voice was so raw that Reinhard did.

He stood and walked over next to her, leaning his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arm around her side. “I love you, you know. And I know you’re just trying to look out for me. But I think I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reinhard is a vicious little gremlin and I love him. 
> 
> Why do we get a locker room scene? Because I have seen Carrie too many times, and I also believe locker rooms without individual changing stalls are a hate crime against me, personally. 
> 
> I used to be a high school teacher (I taught 9th grade algebra lol), so I have a lot of very particular emotions in my heart about how things go down at schools.
> 
> I know that Annerose does not have that much personality in canon, but I hope that what I'm constructing feels both true to that and deeper haha. Annerose "The Enormity of My Desire Disgusts Me" von Musel.
> 
> Lydia said that the descriptive parts of this chapter were very good (#literary), so I hope you enjoy them as well. I love to describe things. You are explicitly meant to compare and contrast Heinessen and Odin. This is a running idea.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to Lydia for the beta read. Check out my original science fiction @ bit.ly/shadowofheaven for more people sustaining this exact type of finger injury (kinda). I'm @natsinator on twitter and javert @ tumblr.
> 
> Let me know what you think so far! :)


	4. The Body Keeps the Score

_ October 787 UC, Heinessen _

Annerose sat with her hands folded neatly on her lap in the guidance counsellor’s office, listening attentively as her counselor brought up her file.

“How have you been, Annerose?” Ms. Talu asked. She was a chubby woman, with dark brown skin and a halo of curly hair held down with a red headband. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been fine, thank you,” she said.

“Your grades are excellent, as always, so that’s good,” Talu said, scrolling down through Annerose’s class list. “You’re definitely on track to graduate, so it’s about time that we’re having this meeting.”

Annerose nodded silently.

“Do you have any thoughts or questions about your future?” Talu asked. “Are you planning on attending college?”

Annerose bit her lip fractionally before responding. “I would like to do what’s best for my family,” she said. “College could help me get a better paying job, I suppose.”

“Don’t be so lackluster,” Talu said. “You would get accepted into any school in the Alliance, with these scores. Do you have anything that you’d like to study?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hm. I’d say that you should go into your strongest subject, but since you do well across the board…”

“I suppose I could go into anything. Whatever would be best.”

“Is there something that worries you about that?”

“Ms. Talu, I did some research on my own.”

“Oh, excellent.”

“I’m not a citizen.”

“I know. Still a few years left before you can apply, right?”

“Twelve.”

“Hm. That is a while.”

“Schools don’t give scholarships to non-citizens,” Annerose said. “So maybe it’s not worth thinking about.”

“I see.” Talu tapped her keyboard for a second. “I think there are some options.”

“Okay.”

“For one thing, there are plenty of trade apprenticeships out there. Those will pay you to learn. Did you have any interest in learning a trade?”

“I’ll do anything that will let me support my family,” she said, as though that were the only thing she could say.

“Okay, then we’ll keep that as an idea. Usually I recommend trades to boys, but I’m sure you would do well. And, of course, you could just get a job immediately out of school, but most well-paying jobs do require higher education. You could work for a while to save up.”

“Can I ask a question, Ms. Talu?”

“Of course, Annerose. I’m happy to answer any questions.”

“You see my brother as well, right?”

“I see all the Ms through Ps,” Talu said. “Which is a lot of students.”

“He’s in the same situation I’m in. When he graduates, where would you recommend he goes?”

“Are you asking this question for him, or for yourself?”

“Both,” Annerose said. “I want to help him prepare. And if it’s something that we both could do, he might like me to do it with him.”

“You’re a good sister, but I don’t think you have to worry about Reinhard. He’s sharp as a knife.”

“So, what would you recommend for him?”

Talu thought for a second. “If he can get in, I think the easiest path for him would be to go to the Officer’s Training School, over in Thernusen. That would put him on the path to a successful career and get him his citizenship faster.”

“But you didn’t recommend that for me?”

“Women are technically allowed,” Talu said. “Though I haven’t ever had a female student express interest in attending there. I’ve heard it can be quite difficult.”

“What do I have to do to get in?”

“There’s an entrance exam, which I feel you won’t have any trouble with, and your scores will be enough. Do you really want to go there?”

“If it will help Reinhard.”

“Annerose, I’m not going to tell you not to think about your brother, but I do also want you to think about yourself. Do some research before you commit to anything.”

“I will.”

“You don’t strike me as a soldier.”

“I can do anything I require of myself,” Annerose said.

Talu considered her. “That’s a dangerous way of phrasing things.”

“I apologize for misspeaking.”

* * *

Annerose spoke with Reinhard about this over dinner, wondering what he would say. He was taller than she was, now, having hit the late childhood growth spurt, but not the final stretch of his teenage years. He was a sophomore this year. Reinhard had wanted to jump up another grade level, but Annerose had convinced him not to, saying that it might make it harder for him to find a career right out of school, if he was too young. He was already going to be dangerously young, she thought, to get into the Officers’ school when he graduated. 

He liked the idea that he would go there, when she reported almost word for word the conversation she had had with her guidance counselor. 

“But what about you?” he asked, delicately taking a bite of pasta, as though it were a fancy meal and not just two dollars worth of ingredients that Annerose had scrounged out of their cupboards. “Are you going to do that?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Of course I want you to.” He looked at her with those wide blue eyes of his. “We’ll be great together.”

“Then I’ll do it,” she said. She prodded at her own pasta. “Or, I’ll take the entrance test, at least. I can’t guarantee that I’ll get in.”

Reinhard laughed. “You act like you don’t know your own worth.”

She wanted to ask, ‘What worth?’, but she kept her mouth shut and just smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I know you’ll get in. You’re better than them.” 

“Them?”

“You know what I mean.”

Sometimes, the viciousness in Reinhard’s voice scared her. “Do I have to worry that you’ll be okay here if I do go?”

“I think you can trust me.”

“You think?”

“I do try not to do things you wouldn’t approve of.”

“I’m not just talking about that,” she said. “I also have to wonder if you’ll be able to take care of mom, and do your laundry, and remember to eat without me bothering you about it.”

“I’m not incapable,” Reinhard said, letting a little bit of petulance onto his face and voice. Annerose smiled to see it-- sometimes it was nice to have him act his age. It made her feel needed.

“So if I stopped cooking dinner tomorrow, you’d be able to?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe I should take you up on that.”

“I’d be happy to.” His eagerness to please her was genuine, but she just laughed.

“You’ll have the rest of your life to cook for yourself. Might as well let me baby you for a few more months.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What?” Annerose asked.

Reinhard switched to the Alliance language, even though that was growing less effective as a method of shielding their conversations from their mother as time went on. She was beginning to learn it. But, since she was not in the room, and was most likely asleep, it still seemed safe enough. “Have you given up on me finding a wife who will cook for me?” he asked. 

“You’re twelve. Finding a wife…” She cringed a little, realizing that she had implied that. “I don’t know how you can joke.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he said. She was uncomfortable with the topic, so he switched it before things went too far, which was either kind or self serving of him; she couldn’t quite tell. “I’ll eat in dining halls while I’m at school, and then when I’m in the Fleet, ships have communal meals.”

“And after that?”

“Maybe I’ll live with you again,” he said with a smile.

“Things seem so simple when you say them. It’s the one thing that’s a little childish of you.”

“You think things aren’t so simple?”

“What if I get a husband?” she asked. It was intended as a joke, but Reinhard’s hand tightened on his fork, which scraped unpleasantly across his plate.

“Oh. I didn’t know that you wanted one.”

“I’m joking, Reinhard,” she said, not wanting to upset him.

He relaxed and smiled. “Alright.”

“Does it upset you that much?”

“I’m not upset.” A blatant lie.

“Opposed, then.”

“You can do what you want with your life.” This sentence came out grudgingly, at best. He paused for a second. “I just never really thought about it.”

“And now that you are thinking about it, you don’t like it?”

Delicately, Reinhard said, “I find it hard to believe that any man deserves you.”

“You think too highly of me, by far.”

“I have yet to meet a man I would consider your equal.”

“I’m not sure what qualifications you’re using.”

“Are you looking to hear me flatter you?”

She laughed. “I shouldn’t have asked, then.”

“You are both beautiful and intelligent, and even one of those qualities is a rare thing.”

“I worry that you’re blinded by the lids of your own eyes,” she said. “You might find there are better people in the world than I, if you were willing to look.”

“Somehow, I doubt it.”

* * *

_ April, 789 UC, Heinessen _

Annerose spoke with her mother briefly before leaving for school. Reinhard was out of the house; she had sent him to go buy her a tube of toothpaste at the store down the street. Annerose knocked on her mother’s bedroom door.

“Come in,” her mother said, and Annerose did.

Her mother was sitting up in bed, the light from the muted television on the desk across the room the only source of illumination. “How are you feeling, mama?” Annerose asked.

“I’m alright,” she said. “I took some of my strong stuff, so I should be okay for a few hours.”

Annerose perched on the side of her mother’s bed. “Can I convince you to go to a doctor when I go out to school?”

“Who’s the daughter here and who’s the mother?” Caribelle asked. “I’ve been to doctors. They don’t do much for me.”

Annerose sighed and anxiously smoothed down the fabric of her skirt on her legs. Her mother caught her hand and stilled its movements. Caribelle’s hands were thin, dry, and cold as ice. “I told Reinhard that he should take care of you while I’m gone.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I’m not completely an invalid.”

Annerose bit her lip. “I want to make sure that you’re okay.”

Her mother smiled. “I’m fine, I promise. I’m more worried about you than you should be about me.”

“Mama,” Annerose said. “Please don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“You make me not want to go.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s no reason for you to stay.”

“You and Reinhard are here.”

“Annerose, I brought you to this country so that you could have your own future. I want to see you live it. Don’t hesitate; don’t worry about me, or Reinhard, for that matter. He’ll be okay, too.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know. Try, for my sake?”

“Do you think I’ll like it there?”

“I have no idea,” Caribelle said. “I know less about military school than you do, I’m sure. I think you’re a strong girl, though, and you’re smart. That will carry you through.” She paused for a moment. “It’s not the future that I imagined for you when you were born, but if it’s a future you’re choosing, then I’m glad for it.”

“What did you imagine, when you had me?”

“Oh, things were a lot different back then,” she said. “I don’t know. I think I pictured that we would be kind of a perfect family, you know, picnics by the sea, sending you to school in cute little dresses, maybe when you’re eighteen, marrying some respectable man, and then living down the street from me for the rest of your life.” She laughed a little. “A mother can’t help but imagine such silly things. Well, you might still get married, but you probably wouldn’t want to live down the street from here.”

“Reinhard would kill me if I did.”

“Don’t let him tell you how to live,” Caribelle said, voice unexpectedly sharp. “He doesn’t own you.”

“Mama,” Annerose said, not sure why her mother was suddenly so upset. “He’s my brother.”

“Annerose, listen to me.”

“I’m listening, mama.”

“I love you for who you are, and for who you will become. You’re not just made up out of what you can do for other people.”

Annerose turned away slightly, unable to look her mother in the eye. “But I have to--”

Her mother gripped her hand with a surprising strength. “When we left Odin, the whole time I was thinking of how much it killed me, that you would have given yourself up, let yourself be used, if you thought you had no choice. I saw it in your eyes. You wouldn’t have complained, if someone told you it would have been for Reinhard’s benefit. I must have failed you, to make you think that way.”

“You didn’t fail me,” Annerose said. “Please don’t say that.”

“Reinhard is a child. He’s a brilliant child, but a child. And I see the way he looks at you. Don’t let him force you into things.”

“He wouldn’t demand--”

“He might not demand, no.” Her mother sighed and slumped back onto her pushed up pillows, as though the conversation had exhausted her. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she said. “I shouldn’t try to tell you what to do, either.”

“It’s okay, mama,” Annerose said. “Reinhard and I… You know he would do anything for me, too.”

She sighed. “Perhaps.”

“You don’t think so?”

“You would do anything for him because you want to see him succeed. He would do anything for you for a different reason.”

“What is that?”

Her mother closed her eyes. “Perhaps it is rude of me to speculate on his motives. He’s a child.”

“Not for much longer.”

“I know. And I already love the man he will become.” She smiled. “But you’re about to go to school. I can’t believe my daughter is all grown up.”

“Mama…” Annerose said, but she smiled too. 

“I suppose I don’t have to tell you to be good at school, or to get good grades. It makes me a lazy mother, to not have to worry about that for my children. Just make sure you call and tell me all about how it’s going, alright?”

“Of course.”

They heard the apartment door open; Reinhard had returned. He stuck his head in the door of the bedroom. “Got your toothpaste,” he said, looking between them. “What are you watching?” he asked, looking at the television that was still silently playing.

“Oh, just some Phezzan talk program,” Caribelle said. “Nothing important. I was just telling Annerose that she needs to be at the top of her class.”

“That won’t be hard,” Reinhard scoffed. “She’s the best.”

“Of course,” Caribelle said, then glanced at Annerose. “You should finish packing. Don’t let me delay you.”

“My train’s not for another two hours.”

Caribelle shooed her up and off the bed anyway.

* * *

It was good that Annerose didn’t bring very much with her to school, because she didn't have very much space to put it in. She shared a tiny room with three other girls, a kind of enforced camaraderie, where each had only a desk, a bed, and a trunk in which to keep their belongings. The one closet, for hanging their uniforms, was communal.

Annerose introduced herself to her three roommates. The first was the tallest woman Annerose had ever met, with brown skin and close cropped hair, who introduced herself as Yan BarCarran. The second was a short, pale and freckled, chubby girl with auburn hair coiled up around her ears named Sylva Calor. The third girl, Kino Mejia, had tanned skin and wore her hair in long black braids down by her ears.

They spent some time getting acquainted. Yan was from a family of merchants, and she had decided to join the Fleet because it was the least burdensome way for her to get an education. Sylva was from Heinessen, from the capital, and she was enrolled in the officer medical corps program, upon the insistence of her father (a pediatrician), though she claimed she wanted to switch out of it into something else as quickly as possible. When asked about her background, Kino said flatly, “I’m a war orphan. From El Facil.”

When Annerose described her own heritage, in as vague of terms as possible, the other three accepted it. Though the number of refugees from the Empire was relatively small compared to the many billions of people in the Alliance, a surprising number of them tended to join the Alliance Fleet. It was, in fact, probably more unusual that she was a woman than that she was a refugee from the Empire. The female population of the school was almost pathetically small. That was the impression she got from glancing around at her new uniformed peers as they gathered up on the green to await their first instructions.

Annerose stuck with her new roommates through an orientation session and a welcome dinner in the utilitarian student dining hall. She couldn’t say she knew them well by the end of it, but she at least became familiar with them enough that when she lay down to sleep in her upper bunk, she wasn’t worried that they were going to cause her trouble. 

She couldn’t sleep, though. Although she was used to sharing a room with Reinhard, his quiet breathing had a familiar tenor. Here, Sylva’s wheeze, Yan’s light snore, and Kino’s occasional shuddering breaths below her were all unusual enough to keep her awake. So, when all of the lights turned on at once, and they heard the sound of footsteps pounding in the halls and someone banging on the doors, Annerose was already awake. She dropped out of bed immediately. The hallway was full of yelling voices and stomping feet.

She looked around the room. Kino was awake, but hadn’t moved out of bed, and was just staring at her with wide, dark eyes. Yan was rolling over, waking from her slumber, and Sylva was dead to the world still, despite the lights and chaos outside. Annerose pulled her shoes onto her feet.

“What’s going on?” Yan asked, voice groggy with sleep.

“Don’t know,” Annerose said. She got her uniform jacket on over her pyjamas, and then there was the sound of someone pounding on the door, heavy fists thumping like a drumroll. “Should I open it?”

Kino stood from her bottom bunk and pulled the door open before Annerose got an answer from anyone else. There was a man in the doorway, shirtless but wearing uniform pants and shoes, with a stripe of red paint smeared across his eyes and nose. “Good morning, ladies,” he said with a wide smile. “Time to go.”

“Who are you?” Kino asked.

“Not taking questions at this time. Let’s go, ladies. Outside.”

By this time, Sylva had woken up and Yan was pulling on her shoes.

“Why?” Kino asked.

“Not taking questions,” the man said again. “And you don’t have time to get dressed, let’s go, let’s go.” He started pounding on the door again. Sylva was clutching her head, disoriented. Students in various states of undress were streaming past their door now-- pyjama clad freshman and half-uniformed upperclassmen looking like wild men. 

Annerose felt panicked, but she also probably didn’t have a choice. 

“What happens if we don’t go?” Yan asked suddenly, her shoes on her feet.

“You don’t want to find that out. Go!” the man said again, and then with a final bang on the door, ran off, joining the horde that was streaming past the door.

Kino glanced around at the other three women, then took off running down the hallway in her bare feet, following the crowd. “Jeeze, Kino!” Yan yelled, and dashed after her.

“I’m gonna follow--” Sylva said, and although she had only one shoe on, stumbled out the door into the rush. Annerose didn’t want to lose sight of the only familiar faces she had, so she ran, too, jostled by the crowd.

Outside, in the cold and damp night air, everyone kept running. On the edge of the crowd, there were upperclassmen with torches, flaming pillars, whooping and hollering and ushering the crowd along. Some people stumbled and fell and were left on the side of the road, or hopped over by the rushing crowd.

Annerose wasn’t sure how far they ran, but it was far. She was exhausted by the time they finally arrived at their destination, but at least she was wearing shoes. Everyone who didn’t have time to put them on must have been suffering badly. The freshmen were all doing worse than the upperclassmen hustling them along, because all of them seemed inexhaustible. Perhaps their enthusiasm for whatever was coming bolstered them, but the fear that was growing in Annerose’s stomach seemed to drag her down. For the first time, it really hit her what she had gotten into.

They ended up in a field, far enough away from the buildings of the school and city that even their lights couldn’t be seen through the trees. They had run along roads, then through a freshly plowed field, and then they were here in a kind of grassy, open space. 

Someone stood in front of the crowd, yelling. “Welcome to hell, freshmen!” he shouted. “Line up!”

Stumbling almost blindly in the dark, tripped by the invisible dips in the grass, the freshmen huddled up into some semblance of a group. They were all too tired and nervous to even whisper to each other in the dark, still strangers.

“You might feel like you’re hot shit for being here,” the man at the front of the crowd yelled. “You might feel like you deserve to be here! But I will tell you right now-- you don’t deserve anything! You’ve gotta earn it!

“And when you earn it, you start from nothing! All of you from nothing! You understand?”

There was no response.

“I said, do you understand?” he yelled, even louder.

A mumbled ‘yes’ from the crowd.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Yes!”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir!”

“That’s better!” There was some laughter from the upperclassmen now. “Nice to see some respect for your elders.” The speaker consulted with a few of the people standing near him, who were carrying backpacks. They opened them up and showed him the contents, though from where Annerose stood, she couldn’t see what it was.

“Now, who’s first?”

None of the freshmen volunteered, so the leader of the upperclassmen pointed out a few of the boys near the front of the huddled group. “You! You, let’s go. Come on. Everybody’s gonna do it, you just have the honor of being first. Let’s go.”

They were pushed out into the open, away from the protection of the herd, and a couple of the upperclassmen grabbed their arms and forced them into a kneeling position. From the backpacks, they pulled out a slew of electric razors, handing them to the upperclassmen. 

“Everybody starts from nothing around here!” the leader said again. It was impossible to hear the buzzing of the razor over the noise of the crowd, but when it was roughly run across the head of the boy on the ground, his hair came off in huge chunks, illuminated by the flickering torches held above him. He seemed numb, once it was done, and he was tugged to his feet, and the razor was pressed into his hand, and he was shoved forward into the crowd, told to pick someone out. And then the upperclassmen forced that boy to kneel, and the whole process was repeated, over and over.

Everyone in the crowd of freshmen reacted differently, though there were a few trends. Some were excited, some were so scared and upset that they were almost crying, and most were numb. A few students broke off from the crowd and ran away, to the jeers of the upperclassmen. 

This was a ritual, and if they didn’t complete it, they would be marked as outsiders, by the presence of their hair. They probably wouldn’t last long, Annerose realized. 

So, when someone tugged on her shoulder, she let herself be pressed down kneeling into the mud, and she dropped her head to her chest as the razor slid buzzing over her scalp. She bit her lip so hard it bled as her hair fell away from her head in waves, blowing away on the slight breeze.

There were worse indignities in life, she thought. It would grow back, she told herself. She was doing this for Reinhard, she kept repeating. 

And, when it was done, and she was hoisted back to her feet and told to pick someone from the crowd, she grabbed the arm of some boy, faceless in the dark, and cut off all his thick curls. She wanted to apologize, but in the chaotic dark, there was no way, so she tried to just convey her apology in the gentleness of her hands and the way she looked into his eyes when she handed him the razor.

And then it was done. 

Annerose ran her hands over her scalp, feeling the short fuzz there, and the unexpected cold of the night air. 

She heard the voices of her roommates, and found them in the dark. “Touch my head,” Sylva said to Yan. “Doesn’t that feel weird?”

“If you say so,” Yan said. She had already had short hair, so this was far less of a change for her than it was for anybody else.

“Oh, Annerose!” Sylva seemed excited to see her. “Let me pet your head.”

But before Annerose could approve or deny this request, the whole mass of students started moving again, maybe ushered along by some signal that Annerose had missed, and they were running, back the way they had come, back towards the school, the wind rushing over their newly bare heads, all the same in the darkness.

* * *

Annerose had expected that that would be the end of it, that one midnight ritual, but she had been wrong. During the day she went to her beginning classes with all the rest of the newly bald freshmen, but during the night, every night for a week, there was that same nighttime chaos, and some new humiliation, always starting and ending with a run that felt longer and worse than the night before. One night, they had all been made to strip and swim across an ice cold river. Another, they had been forced to crawl through odd tunnels, slimy, disgusting, wet up to elbows and knees, getting filthy liquid in their mouths, unable to see, hearing nothing but the labored breathing of the person before them. They fumbled around in the dark, single file, bumping into someone ahead, pressed on by the crush of terrified people behind them even when they felt like they could go no further, feeling like they might drown or be trapped in these narrowing pipes, until they emerged, gasping and blinking, onto the outside ground, and had no time to rest or wait, but were told to start running again, go, go, go.

Every night, for a week, there was something like this. She started laying in bed with her clothes on, shoes already on her feet, waiting for the inevitable war cries rousing everyone. She didn’t sleep, or she thought she didn’t sleep. She must have, at some point, been so tired that time passed without her awareness of it, which could be called sleep.

She might have felt like she did not exist, her mind being so overwhelmed by the constant action and tension that it could not hold a single thought, but for her body, which cried out in pain and exhaustion. Still, she had said to herself once that she could do anything she required of herself, and she required this. So Annerose pressed on. Even if she let her mind drift away to some other place, her body brought her back to herself, keeping the score.

She didn’t know how much longer it could go on, and almost everyone around her seemed as tired and beaten down as herself. 

After class on Friday, she returned to her room immediately and passed out on her bed, fully clothed. She missed dinner, sleeping all the way through it, and woke only when the clock read after midnight. She was still tired, but her body knew that she was about to be pulled out of bed, so she might as well already be awake. Her thoughts were clearer than they had been, at least. She lay in the dark, waiting. Drumming came down the hallway, just like she had expected, and then the doors were flung open, and everyone dragged themselves out of their rooms, down the hallway.

“How much more of this are we going to have to do?” Sylva whined, having at least enough energy within her to complain. Kino was alert and silent. Yan tripped on her own feet as they came out into the hallway, and Annerose gave her her shoulder for support.

They ran.

The tenor of things was different, tonight. The upperclassmen were friendlier, maybe, and one of them pressed a torch into Annerose’s hand, letting her carry it as they ran. “Come on, ladies,” he said, and Annerose recognized him as the man who had been at their door that first night. Tall, broad shouldered, with curly brown hair and thick sideburns. He grinned at her, and she noticed now that he was older than the rest of the upperclassmen, by a few years, at least. Then he dashed ahead, running and vanishing in the darkness outside of the flare of Annerose’s torch.

They didn’t run for as far as she had thought they might. They ended up travelling along the treeline outside the city, then ducking down a path that was too narrow for all of them. Annerose was afraid their torches would light the branches above their heads on fire, but they all arrived at their destination without incident, some clearing in the woods, littered with fallen logs and boulders.

The leader of the upperclassmen stood on one of those boulders, and he yelled somewhat incoherently at the assembly. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your week in hell, frehmen!” He laughed. “It doesn’t get any better from here. But maybe you’ve all earned the right to stay, at least. Enjoy it while it lasts!”

The upperclassmen cheered, and from nowhere seemed to produce enough wood to light a giant bonfire, and then kegs of beer and other random bottles of alcohol. Probably these things had already been in the clearing, but until they were the center of attention, Annerose hadn’t noticed them. 

“Oh, it’s a party,” Yan said in her ear as someone struck up loud music. “They didn’t have to get us out of bed for this.”

Someone came around and handed them both plastic cups full of, well, Annerose couldn’t tell in the darkness, and she had never drank before, so she couldn’t identify the horrible tasting liquid. She drank it down anyway.

Annerose sat down on one of the fallen logs next to Kino, watching the celebration from afar. Kino didn’t really talk or drink, just swirled her beverage around in her cup, the light of the fire reflecting off her black eyes.

Annerose didn’t mind the silent company. She was surprised that so many of the freshman boys seemed to have developed an energy for partying, now that there were no more expectations that they would have to run or crawl through something nasty, or be subject to an ever more difficult series of humiliations. Perhaps it was lucky that, in the dark, with their uniform jackets on, with their hair shaved, all the women looked enough like men that they weren’t being bothered.

“They say ‘prosit’ in the Empire, when they drink, don’t they?” Kino asked, startling Annerose out of her reverie.

“I guess,” Annerose said. “Why?”

“I heard them say that on El Facil. I was just wondering what it meant.”

“To your health,” Annerose said.

“To your health, then,” Kino said, as she took a sip of her drink.

“To yours as well.” Annerose’s cup was already empty. She stared across the crowd, easily picking out Yan’s tall head rising above most others’, and saw Sylva leaning on her arm, laughing, teeth catching the light. They were speaking to a man, then Sylva pointed back at Annerose and Kino, and the man headed towards them. Kino got up immediately, without speaking, and vanished into the darkness. Annerose would have followed, but she was too late, and the man was already upon her, looking down and blocking the light of the fire.

“May I sit with you?” he asked. She recognized his voice, even though his face was deep in shadow: he was the man who had come to their door the first day, and then had handed her the torch on her run.

“Have I had much of a choice in anything recently?”

“Of course,” he said. “You could have left at any time.”

“Did you expect me to quit?”

“I hardly even know you. It would be unfair of me to make such a judgment based on just appearances.”

“How fair of you.”

“Of course, there are many other judgments that I will not refrain from making based on appearances.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I think you are very beautiful, and I would like to get to know you better.”

Annerose’s face heated up. “You haven’t even told me your name.”

“Walter von Schenkopp, at your service,” he said, giving her a slight bow. “And now that you know who is asking, may I sit with you?”

“If you must,” Annerose said, but she scooted over on the log and allowed it. He took a seat and stretched out his legs in front of himself. He was close, but careful not to touch her, which she appreciated.

“And what is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Annerose von Müsel.”

“It’s a pleasure, then, Ms. Annerose.”

“Is it? As I recall, I met you under very unpleasant circumstances.”

He laughed. “Unpleasant circumstances are made all the better by having a friendly face in them, aren’t they?”

“Perhaps.” Annerose looked down into her empty cup. 

“Care for something stronger?” Schenkopp asked, pulling a flask out from under his jacket. Annerose hesitated, but the hesitation was taken as consent, and he poured something into her cup. She didn’t drink it immediately, and he smiled at her. “Of course, I’ll be a gentleman and prove that I’m not trying to poison you,” he said, and took a swig from his flask. “Cheers!”

Annerose took a hesitant sip from her cup. The alcohol burned on the way down, and she coughed. He laughed at her. “Not much of a drinker, are you?”

“It’s an unladylike habit to get into,” she said, but took another sip.

“Ah, but are you a lady, or are you a soldier?”

“I am what you say I am.”

“Luckily, I am of the opinion that one can be a fine lady and a fine soldier at once.”

“You flatter me.”

“Where are you from, Ms. Annerose?”

“Wrightsville,” she said.

“And that’s the Wrightsville accent I hear in your voice?”

She frowned. “What do you think you hear in my voice, Mr. von Schenkopp?”

“Well, Ms. von Müsel, I would describe it as the same accent I hear from my own grandmother.”

“Being compared to a man’s grandmother is not a flattering comparison.”

He laughed. “I thought you were uninterested in my flattery.”

“Mr. von Schenkopp, I’m afraid that I’m poor company, as I am mostly interested in getting a good night’s sleep, for once.”

“We won’t be bothering you again,” he said. “Unless you invite me to bother you in your bedroom, of course.”

“What a crass thing to say.”

“Is it more or less crass than a shirtless man banging on your door in the middle of the night, uninvited?”

“Since you were knocking on all the men’s doors as well, I did not take it as a proposition,” she said. “Unless you’re saying that I should have?”

He laughed. “Let’s not let anyone hear you cast that aspersion on me.”

She smiled a little bit. “Why are you here, Mr. von Schenkopp?” 

“In what sense are you asking?” He stretched, flinging his arms out behind him. “I’m in this universe because my parents slept together under the light of the stars; I’m in the Alliance because my grandmother decided she could no longer bear to live in the Empire; I’m in the Fleet because I’d like to prove myself to my adoptive homeland; I’m in this Academy because my superior officers in my combat unit decided I was too smart to not be trained as an officer; and I’m sitting here with you because you caught my eye, and you allowed me to. Does that answer your question?”

“And several more that I would not have asked,” she said, and took another sip of her drink, feeling the alcohol in her head, now. He poured her some more from his flask, and she looked askance at him. “Are you not afraid of germs?”

“You crawled through the sewers two nights ago, and now you’re asking me if you should be worried about a little spit? I love women, but I will never understand them.”

“I believe, Mr. Schenkopp, the thing that one must understand about women, is that we will suffer any indignity that must be borne, but we are not in the habit of creating indignities that serve no purpose.” But she took a sip of her drink anyway, and he smiled at her.

“I’m glad, then, that you find putting up with my spit to serve a purpose.”

“It’s hard to refuse a kind offer, even if it does have germs attached to it.”

“Don’t let any of the rest of these fools hear you talk like that. It’s a dangerous thing to say.” He gestured around at the crowd of students, freshmen and upperclassmen alike.

“I think I can figure out for myself which offers are safe to accept and which should be refused.”

“I did not intend to imply that you couldn’t,” he said. “I’m simply telling you that you are in a nest of vipers.”

“Mr. Schenkopp, please realize that you do not make yourself seem any better in comparison by dismissing your peers.”

“So, the lady has teeth.”

“And claws.”

He laughed again. “Perhaps I should request that you use them on me.”

“You are a naive man if you think that I would accept a proposition from you at this hour.”

“But at some other hour?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Ms. von Müsel, you are excellent company,” he said, then stood. “Though clearly you do not hold the same opinion of me.”

“It’s late,” Annerose said. “I find myself unable to form positive opinions on anything, at this hour, at least.”

“But at some other hour?” he asked again.

“Perhaps.”

He smiled, then. “I will have to find you during one of those more appropriate hours. I hope you enjoy the rest of the party.”

“I’m sure I will enjoy much more going back to bed.”

He laughed. “I thought you were having a good time.”

“You and I have very different perspectives tonight, Mr. von Schenkopp. Don’t you remember going through this yourself?”

“Oh, as if it were yesterday.”

“And you enjoyed yourself at a party after a week without sleep?”

“Would it be crass to say that I did, and that I enjoyed the best sleep of my life with a beautiful upperclassman upon that week’s conclusion?”

“Yes, that would be extremely crass to say,” she said.

“I’m afraid I run my mouth altogether too much.” He waved at her. “Some other time, then, Ms. von Müsel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Schenkopp gives Annerose the coronavirus. 
> 
> I don't know how to write straight people? How do they behave? It's one of the many mysteries of this world.
> 
> If you've done as I've said to and gone to read my original fiction (bit.ly/shadowofheaven) you'll recognize some familiar faces in this chapter. Yan, Kino, and Sylva are visiting from that story. They'll probably have a better time here than they are having in their own. They aren't important, but please allow me to indulge myself while I amuse you. It's one of the few pleasures I have in life :p Anyway RIP to mildly homophobic Annerose, who is now roommates with two lesbians and the world's most apathetic bisexual lmao. She'll get over it. Anyway, you SHOULD read my original fiction, especially if you are trapped inside your house with nothing better to do ;)
> 
> Next chapter will also be an Annerose chapter, since she's doing more interesting things than Reinhard at the moment, since he is stuck in high school lmao. Girls go to college to get more knowledge, boys go to high school because otherwise I deem them too young to go anywhere and that's THAT.
> 
> Please tell me what you think, also thank you for reading <3


	5. First the Gold on the Head, Then the Pearls in the Mouth

_May, 789 UC, Heinessen_

Annerose discovered that it was much easier to do well in her classes when she was not losing most of a night’s worth of sleep, every night. She excelled in them. During freshman year, all students took a scattering of courses across all disciplines, which seemed to be a way to sort students into where they properly belonged. Annerose assumed that she was heading for the administrative track, since that was where the vast majority of women seemed to end up (either that, or in the Officer Physician program), but she found she enjoyed all of her classes, much more than she had ever enjoyed any class before, which left her with the nagging sense that perhaps she shouldn’t be so hasty to follow the road she thought she had carved out for herself.

She was so focused on her schoolwork for the first several weeks that she failed to develop much of a social life. She had never been particularly outgoing for her own sake, so this didn’t so much ‘not bother her’ as go completely unnoticed, until, one day, as she was heading out of her one elective, chorus, she was stopped by someone calling her name.

“Hey, Annerose, could you stay here for a second?”

She turned back around. The person calling her was seated at the piano. She had wavy blonde hair that fell around her ears in the fashion of so many of the female students of the Academy, but she wasn’t a student-- she was the person who was hired to play the piano for the choir practices. Edwards, something.

She smiled, trying not to appear uncomfortable with the sudden attention as everyone else filed out of the room. She had thought that she had blended in with the few other sopranos. That was one thing that was very different about the Academy than her high school: when the gender ratio in the school was so unbalanced, the choir gender makeup was also the opposite of the norm. Annerose was one of only a few freshman women in the choir (standing out, of course, by their freshly shorn heads).

“Did you need something?” Annerose asked. 

Edwards stood up from behind the piano. “Oh, no, not really,” she said. “I just was wondering if you were busy later tonight.”

“Um,” Annerose said, her hands tightening on the straps of her bag. “I beg your pardon?”

Edwards laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you, and sorry if I’m sounding too crazy, but I noticed that you’re by yourself a lot when you leave class, and I was wondering if you’d like to join the OA’s women’s society. We meet Thursday nights at seven.”

“Thank you for the offer, Ms. Edwards.”

“Oh, please, just Jessica,” she said with a smile. “It’s not a very formal thing, more of a social club.”

“I’ll think about it,” Annerose said.

“You should come. It’s very fun.”

“I have a lot of homework.”

Jessica leaned forward over the piano, and her fingers idly plinked out a few keys. “You can spare a couple hours, I’m sure. Besides, it’s a great way to meet people who can help you out, if you ever need anything. Women have to stick together around here, you know.”

“I’m not sure what I could need.”

“Well, if I can’t convince you, I can’t convince you,” Jessica said, seeming disappointed. She sat back down at the piano bench. “But it’s a standing invitation, if you change your mind.”

“I’ll think about it.” She felt a little bad for clearly disappointing Jessica, so she said, “You play piano very well.”

“Oh, well, I get paid to do it,” she said with a smile. “So I have to earn my keep. Between this and teaching music theory, this is like my relaxing time.”

“There’s a music theory course here?”

“Oh, no, I’m only moonlighting here. My main courses are over at Thernusen College. I’m mostly here as a favor to my dad,” she said with a laugh.

“Your dad?”

“He works here. Bursar’s office.”

“Do you mind if I ask--”

“Of course not.”

Annerose was thrown off balance. “If this isn’t even your main teaching location, why are you inviting me to the women’s society here?”

“I’ve been going to their meetings for years,” she said. “Teachers can come. Considering the desperate shortage of women, I qualify enough. And I think it’s sometimes nice that I can provide a bit of an outside perspective. Not a soldier, after all.”

Annerose nodded, slowly. “I see.”

Jessica’s fingers danced silently over the piano keys, ghosting out a melody. Annerose studied her, and Jessica noticed the study. “You play?”

“I used to,” Annerose said. “Before I came to Heinessen, my house had a piano.”

Jessica scooted off the piano bench and gestured for Annerose to sit. “Let me hear you,” she said.

Annerose looked at her, and Jessica smiled. “Come on, I don’t bite.”

“I’m always telling my brother that he should make more friends,” Annerose said as she sat down at the piano. “I suddenly find myself understanding his position slightly better.” 

Jessica laughed.

It had been a long time since Annerose had played piano, so she ran her fingers over the keys just to reacquaint herself with the feeling, then closed her eyes, searching her memory for half memorized sheet music of years past. She settled on a rather melancholy piece by Brahms. It was the piece she recalled she had been practicing right before they left Odin, though only the beginning of it came easily to her mind and hands now. Playing it with her eyes closed gave her an unpleasant feeling of being back in the body of her younger self, and she shook herself out of it with a start when she came to the end of the selection, or at least what she remembered of the piece.

“And you say you haven’t practiced in years,” Jessica said. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I have a good memory, I suppose,” Annerose pulled her fingers away from the keys, reaching down to pick up her bag.

“You have a talent. Such things are wasted on soldiers. You should play more, though.”

“Maybe,” Annerose said.

“I’ll let you go,” Jessica said. “I see that I’ve pressured you enough.”

Annerose nodded and turned away, but as she reached the door, Jessica called out, “But really, do think about coming. We’d love to have you.”

“I will,” Annerose said, then escaped. 

* * *

When Annerose returned to her room after dinner that night, she found Kino sitting on the floor of the hallway outside.

“Forget your key?” she asked, fishing around in her pockets for her own.

Kino silently held up her own key, eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall. “You don’t want to go in there.”

“What, why?”

Without opening her eyes, Kino raised her eyebrows, voice very flat. “Discretion is the better part of valor.”

“I don’t think that saying applies to the situation,” Annerose said, still not quite understanding, hand on the doorknob.

“Besides, I think they’ve wedged a chair under the handle to stop anyone from coming in.”

“Who has?”

“Ms. Discretion and Ms. Valor.” And she pronounced ‘Valor’ to rhyme with Sylva’s last name, Calor.

“Gods above,” Annerose said. “Isn’t that”-- she lowered her voice to a whisper -- “against the rules?”

“I’m sure we’re both capable of being discreet for the sake of the peace,” Kino said. “Aren’t you?”

Annerose frowned, and Kino let the silence stew in between them. “As long as I don’t have to see it,” she finally said. 

“Then I recommend you don’t go in.”

“Where else am I supposed to go?”

“You’re welcome to sit here and pretend that we’ve both lost our keys,” Kino said.

“I appreciate the offer for the company,” Annerose said, glancing at the door. “But I think I’ll pass.”

Kino shrugged. “As you like.”

Annerose turned and walked back down the hallway, glancing at her watch. Six thirty. Maybe if she went to the women’s society meeting, that would kill enough time to let her back into her room without awkwardness.

The women’s society meetings were held in a room in the student union building, and Annerose arrived a few minutes early, awkwardly taking a seat at a table in the back and watching everyone who came in. Most of the members of the club were students, all of widely varying appearance aside from the uniform they were all wearing. A few staff members wandered in, as well, but they sat together at their own table, forming their own little subgroup. Jessica wasn’t among them, and Annerose began to wonder if the person who had extended the invitation to her wasn’t going to show.

Jessica did walk in, though, laughing and talking with a student who was definitely not a woman-- a young man with floppy, light hair and freckles. She scanned the room, saw Annerose, and came over to her.

“You came!” she said with a bright smile. “Mind if I sit here?”

“You aren’t going to sit with the other staff?”

“They’ll survive without me. Oh, I’m being rude, I should make the introductions here.” She turned to the man at her side. “Dusty, this is Annerose von Müsel, from my chorus group. Annerose, this is Dusty Attenborough.”

“Pleasure,” Annerose said, and shook hands with him.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Dusty replied. “I assume your invitation to sit allows me to take the remaining chair?”

“Go ahead.”

Dusty-- Annerose wasn’t sure if that was a nickname or not-- and Jessica took their seats. “Would you mind if I ask a rude question?” Annerose said, looking across at him.

“You’re about to ask what he’s doing at a women’s society meeting, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, well, it’s a silly answer,” Dusty said. “I’m the leading contributor for the Liberty Bell, the student paper.” He took out a notebook and pen from his bag, clicking it open. “I report on as many student activities as will have me.”

“I see,” Annerose said, though she did not exactly see.

“He writes up a positive column for us once a month,” Jessica said. “Apparently, the editor-in-chief said that having an actual society member write the column would be compromising the integrity of the paper, so, no women.”

“And why did you volunteer for the job?” Annerose asked.

“Well, women have human rights,” Dusty said. “I figure that someone has to be the voice of reason saying that in the newspaper.”

“How gentlemanly of you,” Annerose said.

“Happy to help!” He seemed genuine. “Besides, the busier I’m kept with working on the paper, the less I have to think about schoolwork.”

“I don’t think--” Annerose began, but then the meeting of the women’s society began, and their conversation was forced to come to a close, as the president of the society, apparently a senior from her uniform, made a bit of an address and talked about the activities that the society would be engaging in over the next few months: a fundraiser for a local domestic violence shelter, an intramural sports competition that they were putting together a team for, a hiking trip, and a dance that they were planning. Dusty took fastidious notes on the proceedings and Annerose found watching him do that more interesting than listening to the actual business of the meeting. He circled the word ‘dance’ several times, then drew some squiggles and arrows connecting the words ‘ticket sales’ and ‘fundraiser’, writing ‘lie by implication’ with a smiley face underneath the main connecting thread.

After the body of the meeting, the event half-disbanded into just a social gathering, with snacks and drinks laid out, and people standing around chatting. Jessica pulled Annerose around after her and introduced her to the vast majority of people there. Despite herself, Annerose found herself enjoying the night. 

“Are you going to sign up for intramurals?” Jessica asked when they ended up standing near the sign up sheet. She picked it up and looked it over. “I can’t, because it’s only for students, but you should.”

“You pressure me into a lot of things, for being a person who just started speaking to me about five hours ago,” Annerose said, but without malice.

“All you soldier types are good at sports.” She thrust the clipboard at Annerose. “Write yourself down on the team; they need a last member.”

“What sport even is it?”

“Uh, lacrosse. Ever played?”

“In high school gym, once.” That was not a sport that she had ever seen anyone play in the Empire, but her high school in Wrightsville had done a unit on it during their PE class. Annerose hadn’t been terrible at it, but she also didn’t have any particular love for it.

“Perfect,” Jessica said. “Come on, write your name.”

“May I ask why you’re making this effort with me?” Annerose asked, her pen poised above the paper.

“Does your name hinge on my response?” Jessica asked.

“No, but I would like to know.”

“I’ve been hanging around here for years, and there’s one pattern I’ve seen over and over. Brilliant, talented young women like yourself come in here, don’t fall in with a social group fast enough, and then they drop like rocks. I hate seeing it happen, because it can really ruin your life. I don’t want it to happen to you.”

“I’m not sure where you get the impression that I am either brilliant, or talented. And it wouldn’t happen to me,” Annerose said, but she hesitated for only a fraction of a second longer, then wrote her name in neat cursive on the sign up form. Jessica smiled warmly.

They rejoined Dusty at the snack table in the back, where he was helping himself to a plate of cookies. “Oh, Jessica, Annerose, hold on, are you two going to be at the dance?”

“I’m on the committee, so yes,” Jessica said. “Annerose?”

“I assume you’ll try to force me?”

“No, I’m done pressuring you. Too much work.”

“Maybe,” Annerose told Dusty.

“Let me get your picture and a quote for my column.”

“What? Why?”

“Beautiful faces sell dance tickets.”

“The dance is free,” Jessica said.

“Beautiful faces trick people into donating money to your fundraiser, which I’m going to heavily imply is required for getting into the dance.”

“You scamp. Sure you can take my picture. And say that the fundraiser is a good cause, and we’re all very grateful to any donations that come our way.”

“Will do,” Dusty said. He pulled out his phone and gestured for Annerose and Jessica to get in the picture together.

“I really don’t think I’m going to make the best covergirl,” Annerose said, gesturing to her shaved hair.

“It’s fine,” Dusty said. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, Annerose smiled for the camera.

After the event was over, Dusty ran away, citing an urgent need to write his column quickly so that it could get into the next release of the paper, and so Jessica and Annerose walked out into the cool night air together.

“Thank you for coming,” Jessica said. “Did you have a good time?”

“If you won’t take offense, I’ll say that it was more enjoyable than I anticipated.”

“None taken at all. What made you come in the first place? Sudden change of heart?”

“I was temporarily displaced from my dorm room,” Annerose said. 

Jessica laughed. “God, I’m so glad that doesn’t happen to me anymore. Truly the joys of being an independent adult. You just have to find someone to get revenge with. That’s the only way to make it even.”

“Who, like Dusty?”

Jessica snorted. “Dusty is a man who not only reads the poetry section in the Liberty Bell, but writes it as well. I don’t think he’s interested. He’s harmless, in that respect.”

“Ah. Is his poetry any good, at least?”

“You’ll have to form your own opinion on that. He’ll be happy to hear that anyone is picking up a copy of his beloved paper, even if it is to critique his artistic choices.”

“What about you?” Annerose asked.

“What about me, what?”

“Do you have someone?”

“Is this you asking me for something?” Jessica asked, smiling.

“No!” Annerose said, a little more forcefully than she had intended. “Sorry, I was just curious if you had a boyfriend, or something.”

“If I said ‘or something’, you’d take it the wrong way,” Jessica said with a smile. “He’s more than a boyfriend and less than a fiancee.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I’m hoping he’ll work up the spirit to propose to me someday.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jean Lapp,” Jessica said. “He’s a lieutenant in the sixth fleet.”

“Do you get to see him often?”

“Not as much as I’d like.” She pulled out her phone and showed Annerose a picture of a smiling blonde man, taken while he was in the middle of putting on his uniform jacket.

“He’s quite handsome,” Annerose said.

“Another woman complimenting my boyfriend’s looks-- should I be jealous?”

Annerose laughed. “No.” They made it to the parking lot, where Jessica leaned against one particular car.

“Well, will you come to our next meeting?” she asked.

“Sure,” Annerose said. “You’ve convinced me.”

“Excellent.”

* * *

_June, 790 UC, Heinessen_

Annerose was surprised to find that the more of the women’s society meetings she attended, the more she enjoyed the experience. She even liked the practices for the lacrosse intramural team she had signed up for. She was shorter than most of the other women on the team, and far less experienced, especially since many of them had been playing in the intramural league since they were freshmen, but they all took her under their wings. Hardly a practice could go by without one of them rubbing Annerose’s fuzzy head in encouragement, or helping her up from the ground after she got body checked, or complimenting her on… something. She tried to take all of this in stride, though when too much attention was paid to her, she always ended up blushing fiercely, which would cause some of the women to laugh at her and only make it worse. Still, she ended up liking them quite a lot, and liking playing the sport.

With all the exercise that was required of her, Annerose was finding her body changing like it hadn’t since she was a young teen. Her skin was still smooth, and her face was still the same as it had been, but her muscles became visible on her arms and legs, and, where once she would have described herself as moving her body gracefully, she now would call her actions precise.

She had always thought of her body as a tool, but it was becoming a different kind of tool than she was used to. She could still use it in the original way, she thought, especially when her hair grew back, but she had never before considered that she might take pleasure from running or from firing a gun. It would have been unthinkable to her past self, and it was, in some ways, unthinkable to her current self. Whenever she felt a sudden thrill of accomplishment or joy of movement, she tried to tamp it down. It was not that she considered such things unladylike, but that she found the experience of enjoying something for its own sake-- or, rather, for her own sake-- somewhat perverse. Annerose would never have said any of this aloud to anyone else, and she was hardly conscious of the feeling enough to put it into words, but it still drove her to feel altogether quite odd when she stood around with the other girls after practice in the locker room, sweaty and friendly and something resembling happy.

The first game of the year took place on a rather grey day. A light rain was intermittently falling, and the air was unpleasantly chill. When she woke that morning, she had hoped that the game would be postponed, but all day long, her phone was filled up with messages from her teammates, chatting excitedly about the upcoming game, so, by the time that Annerose got dressed in her uniform, she had begun to actually look forward to the match. 

The game took place on one of the many nondescript fields that the academy kept for sports and training, and the ground was already sloshing with mud. Annerose’s cleats left big gouges in the dirt whenever she stepped, and she mentally resigned herself to becoming completely filthy, shutting any complaints she had away in a corner of her mind. There were benches along the sides of the field where a few spectators (all women from the society who had come to cheer their friends on) had gathered. The opposing team was all men, dressed in red and white jerseys. The women’s jerseys were black and yellow. 

It took a while for the intramurals representative and the referee to arrive, so while waiting, the two teams sized each other up, some of the seniors on Annerose’s team exchanging increasingly heated banter with the opposition. One of the men on the other team, Annerose noticed, was familiar.

“Well, Ms. von Müsel, fancy meeting you here,” Schenkopp said, grinning at her and twirling his stick with one hand, holding his helmet underneath his arm.

“I didn’t know you played,” Annerose said.

“A lacrosse stick is as much like an axe as I’m liable to get around here,” he said. Annerose recalled that he mentioned something before about being in an active combat unit before coming to the academy. “But I could say the same to you. You didn’t strike me as the sporting type when we talked before.”

“And what did I strike you as?”

“I’m afraid I’ve quite forgotten,” Schenkopp said. 

“Have you?”

“Yes. Fortunately, that leaves me able to be struck by your beauty anew. The pleasure is even greater the second time.” Annerose couldn’t come up with a reply to that fast enough.

“Is he bothering you?” Christine, one of Annerose’s teammates, asked loudly, coming over to lean on Annerose’s shoulder. Christine was a senior, and she sneered at Schenkopp as though she was familiar with him. “Walter. She’s a freshman.”

“And not a porcelain doll,” Schenkopp said. “In fact, Ms. von Müsel is a woman quite capable of deciding who she will speak with.” He smiled at her.

Annerose didn’t like the feeling that she was being fought over, and so she said, “Oh, the ref’s arrived. I guess we can get started.”

The conversation that Christine had interrupted between Annerose and Schenkopp was definitely the most civil of the ones occurring between the opposing teams, so it was for the best that the referee did in fact get the game going. Annerose joined her teammates and pulled her helmet and gloves on, hefting the now familiar stick with an unfamiliar nervousness sitting in her stomach. Her helmet was a little too large, and slid uncomfortably around on her head, but the metal cage across the front didn’t impede her vision, even if it did slip forward and require her to constantly stop and adjust it.

The game was not a particularly polished one, and the two sides were not evenly matched. The women’s team had to rely on being faster on their feet, because the average size difference between the players was large enough to cause body checking to be a real danger. Although Annerose had thought she would enjoy playing defense, the game ended up being defense heavy, with the men aggressively pushing the ball into her side of the field more often than not. The only thing that saved the game from being a complete disaster was the skill of their goalie, who blocked shots with ease. 

At halftime, everyone huddled up into a muddy group, shivering in the sudden cold that comes from cessation of activity. “We’ve got this,” Christine said. “All we have to do is be more aggressive. You can do that, can’t you?” She shoved one of the attackmen with her shoulder, causing the whole group of women to sway sideways, as they had their arms around each other. “We’re not going to lose to them.”

There was rousing agreement from the team, and they broke apart. One of the women who had come to watch the game passed out hot coffee to them, which Annerose sipped gratefully as they waited for the game to resume. She shoved her mouthguard into her pocket so that she could hold the hot beverage in both hands. The ref had momentarily abandoned them to take a phone call, so the halftime stretched out for a while.

“Can I get some of that?” Schenkopp asked, coming up beside her and looking at the coffee that the women were drinking.

“You can have the rest of mine if you’re willing to risk my germs,” Annerose said.

“Ah, it’s only fair,” he said with a smile. She passed him the remaining half of her coffee, and he drank it down quickly. “Much obliged.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t be fraternizing with the enemy.”

“Certainly not giving up your snacks to them.” He grinned. “They’ll get jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Me, talking to you. I think my teammates already are.”

“There’s really nothing to be jealous of.”

“There isn’t?”

“I’m certainly not giving you anything other than half a cup of coffee, Mr. von Schenkopp.”

He grinned. “I believe you will be giving me my first victory of the season, as well.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Annerose said. “We’re almost tied. Our goalie gets it most of the times you try to score on us.”

“And we stop you most of the time before you can even make an attempt. All we have to win by is one point!” He held up a finger.

“Well, Mr. von Schenkopp, I look forward to giving you your first taste of defeat.”

His smile was wide. “First teeth and claws, now you’re going to hit me with a stick. I like that in a lady.”

Annerose had had enough at that point, so she rolled her eyes and walked away, rejoining her teammates for the remainder of the game.

The second half of the game was more furious than the first, as the women had rallied their energy, while the men were flagging somewhat. Perhaps it was due to the coffee provided by the spectators, who cheered and gasped and waved at every move that the ball made up and down the field. Because the women were pushing the ball forward, that let Annerose in her defensive position relax a little. She watched Schenkopp, the midfielder with the long stick, dart about the whole field. Annerose wasn’t sure how she felt about him. He was handsome, certainly, and she thought that he would be interesting to speak to in better circumstances, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to attempt to bring those “better circumstances” about. What would she get out of it?

He was a talented player. He wasted no time in smacking the sticks of the opposing players, and took hits without flinching or dropping the ball. She could see in his movements what he had meant about the crosse being as close to an axe as he was going to get; she could mentally replace the harmless stick and ball with a gleaming blade quite easily, and she could see that he wielded it well. Even still, he never used excessive force or seemed to go out of his way to hurt the other players as some of his teammates did. They seemed to get joy from crashing into their opponent as hard as they could. The other women took that as a compliment, or at least a challenge: to be treated as equals. 

If she tried to talk to him later, what would she get? Maybe he would be a good contact in the future, someone Reinhard could learn from. Someone who could get him a position in whatever unit he ended up in. Schenkopp would go far, she considered, and he would be a useful ally.

She did not want to admit to herself that she had other motives for watching Schenkopp as he dashed around.

This period of contemplation was perhaps the first time in her life that Annerose had been so severely distracted. So, when the ball came flying towards her, she almost didn’t react fast enough to catch it. She definitely did not react fast enough to get away from the six foot tall junior bearing down on her. She made eye contact with one of her teammates, then flung the ball right as she was knocked sideways. Her helmet, already loose, came up around her ears, and as she fell to the ground, her teeth crashed into the bottom lip of the helmet, and she felt a searing pain in her mouth. She didn’t cry out and she got right back up after the impact, so the game went on around her, the ball moving back into the other side of the field.

Annerose took stock of her situation. Her mouth was on fire with pain, and she could taste it filling with blood. She kept her lips completely shut, so as not to let the blood come out and disrupt the game. She would play on until the last quarter was over. She wasn’t going to let her team be down a man for her stupidity, for not putting her mouthguard back in after drinking coffee during the break. She kept her mouth closed. She breathed heavily through her nose. She swallowed the blood that filled her mouth, even though it was beginning to make her quite ill. She played the rest of the game, rain falling heavily by the end of it. 

Their team lost, which wasn’t surprising, but it was disappointing to the other women. Annerose was beyond the point of caring. Because of the disappointment of the loss and the inclemency of the weather, most of her teammates jogged off immediately, going to take shelter under the umbrellas of their spectator friends as they walked home, or running in pairs or small groups back to their dorms. One of her teammates collected all their equipment, sticks and helmets, to return them to the closet from whence they had been borrowed.

Annerose stood lost for a moment, feeling rather chill and faint, trying to triangulate the best path to the student medical center. She hadn’t ever had need to go there before, so she didn’t have the clearest sense of where it was. As she started to walk away, someone, Schenkopp, of course, came up behind her.

“Good game, Ms. von Müsel,” he said. “You made it closer than I thought you would.”

She couldn’t respond without opening her mouth, so she just nodded at him as he walked beside her. 

“I was wondering,” Schenkopp said, “if you would like to go out to dinner with me?”

She gestured down at herself, covered head to toe in mud, and he laughed.

“Well, we’d both have to get changed first. Though you’re not walking in the right direction to get back to your room, so I do have to wonder where you’re headed.” Annerose didn’t respond, so he said, “I suppose you don’t have to talk to me, if you don’t want to.” And he sounded legitimately disappointed.

Annerose stopped and turned towards him, covering her mouth with her hand. “Mr. von Schenkopp, I am unfortunately required to head to the student health center at this moment.” Her voice was thick with coagulated blood, making it very hard to talk.

He stared down at her in confusion, and hesitantly reached up towards her hand, which she was clamping over her mouth. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said, and began walking again. He followed after her.

“I won’t ask if you need an escort,” he said. “But would you mind one?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be very good company,” she said, then closed her mouth. She glanced at her hand, which was covered in blood, and wiped it on her jersey.

"But will you stop me from accompanying you?" Schenkopp asked. Annerose shook her head no, though she wasn't sure why, and Schenkopp followed her along the long walk to the student health center.

When they arrived at the rather empty student health center, the woman working the desk was somewhat aghast when Annerose opened her mouth to speak. Annerose caught her own reflection in the plastic divider between them and realized that she did look a sight, with blood smeared across her lips from where she had been hiding it with her hand, and her mouth a black pit full of it. And that was disregarding the fact that she was soaked to the bone and covered head to toe in mud. 

“I knocked one of my front teeth loose while I was playing lacrosse,” she said. “Is there a dentist I can see?”

“Is the tooth out?” the receptionist asked.

“No, but it’s knocked backwards,” Annerose said. 

“How long ago did this happen?”

“About forty five minutes ago.”

Schenkopp grimaced behind her. “Did you need to see a doctor as well?” the receptionist asked.

“No, I’m just accompanying her,” Schenkopp said.

“Alright, hold on a second.” The receptionist stood up and went through the double doors to the treatment area, leaving Schenkopp and Annerose alone.

“You definitely should have come here faster,” Schenkopp said. “I’d feel bad if you lost the tooth.”

“You had nothing to do with it,” Annerose said, no longer bothering to try to hide her problem. “I didn’t want to make our side be down a player.”

“It’s not like it would have made any difference to the outcome.”

Annerose turned away from him at that comment. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, but then the receptionist was coming back out. 

“Right this way.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“As you like,” she said, and so he followed her in to the doctor, and very awkwardly sat on a chair in the corner of the room as Annerose was inspected. 

The actual fix for the tooth was relatively quick; the dentist numbed her mouth, pushed the tooth delicately back into place, then attached splints across the front and back of her nearby teeth to hold it in place. 

“The tooth can be saved, but you’ll need to come back and see me in two weeks,” the doctor said. “It needs more work, but this will hold you until then. I recommend you stay out of lacrosse until this heals. And wear your mouth guard, next time. It’s there for a reason.”

“I will, sir,” Annerose said, her tongue feeling quite floppy from the numbing agent.

“I don’t recommend you eat anything strenuous for a few days, either.”

“I understand.”

“You’ll probably want to take some aspirin. Your mouth is going to be pretty sore.”

Annerose nodded. “Is there anything else?”

“No,” he said. “You’re lucky that this wasn’t worse.”

“I know.” She swung her legs over the side of the chair, and Schenkopp offered her his arm to help her up. She hesitated for a second, then took it. He led her out. The rain had stopped outside, and the sun was almost down.

“Should I thank you for accompanying me?” Annerose asked. “I’m certain that you had better things to do with your evening. Celebrating with your team, perhaps.”

“You can thank me by taking me up on my previous offer,” Schenkopp said.

“Which was?”

“To go out to dinner with me.”

“I’m afraid that I was just banned from eating solid foods.”

“I know just the place for that.”

“Do you want to go back to your room and change clothes?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Schenkopp said. “Besides, I’m starving. Are you just trying to find polite ways to tell me no?”

“No,” Annerose said. “I’m happy to go out to dinner with you, Mr. von Schenkopp.”

“Excellent.” He proffered his arm, and she rested her hand on it, leading her down the street. They looked really strange, walking together off campus and into the city proper, still wearing their jerseys splattered with dried mud and, in Annerose’s case, a few smears of blood.

Schenkopp led her to a well lit, kitschy type of place, the polar opposite type of kitsch that one would find in the Empire. All the decorations were a gleaming chrome, with neon lights on the walls, and huge booths in red plastic, hearkening back to some past aesthetic that had definitely never existed. They slipped into one of the booths across from each other. Annerose inspected the menu, but Schenkopp seemed to already know what he wanted.

“There’s soup, if you want real food,” he said, “but I’m just getting fries and a milkshake. It’s good enough for a meal.”

Annerose nodded, and when the waitress came over, she ordered just a milkshake. Schenkopp got chocolate; Annerose, strawberry. The milkshakes came out in huge glass cups, adorned with whipped cream and cherries. It was possibly the most decadent thing Annerose had eaten in years, and she ate hers delicately with a spoon, trying to avoid jostling her tooth.

They spoke amicably about various things as they shared Schenkopp’s plate of fries. She learned that his family lived in Heinessenopolis, which wasn’t too far from Wrightsville. He told her about his time in a ground combat unit before coming to the academy, and he asked her about her family.

“I live with my mother and brother,” she said.

“Older brother or younger?”

“Younger. He’s thirteen.”

“Do you get along with him?”

“Oh, yes, very well. He’s planning to attend here in a few years.”

“Really? Your stories about this place won’t scare him off?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“Hell week certainly wasn’t easy, and now you’ve almost lost your tooth. And the schoolwork itself is not trivial either, of course.” He tacked that last part on as though it were secondary.

“I haven’t suffered unduly.” 

Schenkopp laughed. “I see. You’re made of sterner stuff.”

“Reinhard, my brother, is far more capable than I am in almost every respect. Even if this place was ten times worse than what it is, I’m sure he would take it as a challenge, rather than a warning.”

“I find it hard to believe that he could be more capable than you are. You say almost every respect?”

“I’ve never seen him attempt to embroider, so I suppose that’s the one advantage I have over him, for now.” 

“Every new thing I learn about you continues to amaze me,” Schenkopp said.

“I’m not entirely sure why.”

“You’re a woman of many contradictions.”

“I don’t feel that way. Besides, you hardly know me.”

“So, you’re saying that all these surface facets are tied together by a whole truth underneath that I have yet to grasp?”

“Isn’t that the way it is for everyone?”

“I’m a much simpler man than that,” Schenkopp said. “I’m sure you already know all that there is to know about me.”

“I doubt it.”

“Unless you want to know me in the biblical sense.”

“Let’s not be crass, Mr. von Schenkopp.”

He smiled. “Of course not, Ms. von Müsel.” He took a sip of his milkshake. “Can I see some of your embroidery?”

“You’re interested in such things?”

“I wasn’t before you mentioned it, but now I am curious.” She looked at him, and he did appear to be genuinely interested, leaning forward over the table slightly.

“I had to leave all of my old work behind when we left Odin,” she said. “But I finished this bedspread for my mother before I came to the academy.” She showed him a picture of it on her phone, the bedspread held up in the kitchen by Reinhard, who was hidden completely behind the blanket. The blanket itself was covered in embroidered images of twisting green branches and songbirds of various types, perched and labeled like a diagram from a birdwatching manual.

“How long did that take you to make?” Schenkopp asked.

Annerose thought about it.

“I didn’t really keep track. You know, working on it almost every day for about a year and a half. It was something to do.”

“And you said you made it for your mother? To sleep under?”

“Of course.”

“If I had made something that took a year and a half of effort, I feel like I wouldn’t let another person touch it. Luckily, I’m not really in the business of making art.”

“It is not enough for things to be beautiful, Mr. von Schenkopp,” Annerose said. “They must also serve a purpose.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s a truth that I hold to, at least. You may think whatever you like.”

“And is that why you’re here in military school?”

“I believe it’s the best way for me to be of help to my brother,” she said. “I want him to be successful.”

“But not for yourself to be successful?”

She took a sip of her milkshake and didn’t answer the question. 

“You think so highly of your brother; he must be really special,” Schenkopp said, changing the topic slightly when it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything else.

“He is. I might like him to meet you.”

“Inviting me to meet your family already? You are serious.”

Annerose smiled. “My ulterior motives are the only ones worth considering,” she said. “I am hoping to find positive role models for him.” Role models weren’t exactly what she was looking for-- allies was a more appropriate term, but she felt that Schenkopp would likely find it absurd for her to suggest that she was attempting to collect a cadre of talent around her thirteen year old brother.

“Role models? It’s hard to believe that I am what you’re looking for, then.”

“Why? You’re talented and hardworking, as far as I can tell.”

“And you have no objection to my loose morals with women?”

“You’ve been a gentleman with me,” she said.

“And with everyone else, besides,” he replied.

“I’m well aware, Mr. von Schenkopp.” Her voice was dry, and she ate a few fries from his plate. “If that bothered me as much as you think it does, I certainly would not be talking to you now. Besides,” she said, “if it really comes down to it, my brother could use some encouragement with women.”

“He’s shy?”

“He’s not particularly good at making friends. But I shouldn’t have said anything about it.”

“I see. Well, we’re not here to talk about your brother.”

“What are we here to talk about, then?”

“I don’t know. Why did you leave Odin?”

“Generally speaking, one’s reasons for fleeing their homeland in the dead of night do not make pleasant dinner conversation.”

“I apologize for asking.”

“I suppose it’s no matter. My father attempted to sell me to the kaiser, as a potential concubine.” She sipped her milkshake and didn’t quite meet his eyes, though she was aware of his stiffening posture and the raise of his eyebrows.

“Your own father did that?”

“I understand why,” Annerose said. “He had debts. I often wonder what my life would have been like, had we stayed.”

“I find it hard to believe it would have been pleasant.”

“For me, no. But there would have been some advantages. I’m sure that Reinhard would have benefitted, if I could have whispered in the kaiser’s ear to advance his status.”

“I’m glad that you escaped,” Schenkopp said, somewhat casually. “It doesn’t seem like a sacrifice that would have been worth it.”

“No?”

“You think it would have been?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, at this point. I suppose I’m grateful that the choice was taken out of my hands.”

“Was it ever in your hands to start with?”

“I believe you told me, Mr. von Schenkopp, that I could have left at any time. In a sense, the same would have been true in that situation, should I have found something that I could not endure.”

“That’s something about you that scares me, Ms. von Müsel,” Schenkopp said. “You seem to believe that you have an endless capacity for endurance.”

“Would it be better if I did not believe that? Is it such an unladylike belief to have?”

“I don’t know.” He contemplated her. “It suits you, though.” He finished his milkshake.

“I suppose I’m gratified that you think so.”

“Suppose?”

“It simply seems an odd thing to be gratified by.”

“But you have enjoyed coming here with me?”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled, then looked down into her nearly empty milkshake, not wanting to appear too foolish.

“You gave me more than just a victory and half a cup of coffee, then, Ms. von Müsel. I have also enjoyed a very pleasant evening.”

“You can call me Annerose, if you like,” she said, and looked slightly away, almost ashamed of admitting that she would like that kind of familiarity.

“Only if you will also call me Walter,” he said with a smile.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then the waitress came over with the bill and to collect their dishes, and the moment was lost. They didn’t say very much until they made it outside.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Schenkopp asked.

“Just to the outside of the door, I’m afraid,” Annerose said.

“Of course. You may lead the way, and I’ll pretend that I don’t already know where you live.”

She laughed, and they walked off together through the cold city streets, back to Annerose’s dorm. They paused outside the door to the building, Schenkopp standing with his hands loosely in his pockets.

“Thank you for the dinner,” Annerose said.

“It was my pleasure.” He paused for a second. “At the risk of sounding slightly too forthright, may I kiss you goodnight?”

“At the risk of sounding like I don’t want you to,” Annerose said, “I must refuse. Ask me again after I have my checkup with the dentist, when the concept of crashing our teeth into each other comes with less of an injury risk.”

He laughed at that. “I think I will take you up on that offer, then, Annerose.”

“I look forward to it.” 

“I saw in the student paper that the women’s society is putting on some kind of dance. Were you planning to attend?”

“Is this you asking me if we could go together?”

“Of course it is.”

“Then yes, I am planning to attend, and I would be glad to have your company.”

“Excellent. Then I shall bid you goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Walter,” she said. They both hesitated for a second, staring at each other. “Were you waiting to watch me get safely back into my dorm?” she asked, gesturing to the door not three steps away.

“Were you waiting for me to leave so that you can watch me walk away?” He had a cheeky smile on his face, and Annerose blushed. 

“And so what if I was?” she asked, and took the few steps to the door, swiping her ID card and pulling it open. She leaned on the door for a second. “Aren’t you going?”

“See, if you had forgotten your ID card, it would have been good that I waited.”

“I’m not going to invite you in.”

“I know.”

“So go home.”

“Okay.” He didn’t move, and neither did she. “Perhaps I should go, because I know you’re capable of standing there all night.”

“Yes,” she said.

He laughed at her, then turned and waved behind himself. “Until next time, then.”

She did have the pleasure of watching him walk away into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dusty Attenborough chief women respecter. 
> 
> Why lacrosse? Because I was writing this chapter and asked Lydia, "hey what sport should Annerose unwittingly sign up for" and Lydia suggested lacrosse b/c her own sister when she was going to [redacted quasi military school] signed up for lacrosse for funsies lmao. It works fine. Of course Schenkopp is a lax bro. They're playing by men's (field) rules here, hence the full contact nature of the sport.
> 
> What, may I ask, is more aggressively heterosexual than going to a diner to get milkshakes? Nothing. I'm not subverting heterosexuality by having them be filthy while they do it; I just think it's hilarious. 
> 
> Feel free to compare and contrast chapter five of this part with chapter five of the previous part. It's ~parallelism~. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> If you've got nothing better to do while stuck inside, read my original fiction where nobody plays lacrosse or is even remotely straight: bit.ly/shadowofheaven (that's a science fiction story) or bit.ly/arcadispark (that's a contemporary mystery novel). Thanks to Lydia for beta reading.
> 
> Stay safe out there, everybody.


	6. Tell Your Boyfriend, If He Says He’s Got Beef

_ July, 789, Heinessen _

Life in Wrightsville without Annerose was tedious in the extreme for Reinhard. Although he was a dutiful son to his mother, cooking and cleaning fastidiously in Annerose’s absence, and he applied himself studiously to his schoolwork, that still left him with vast amounts of free time to do with as he pleased. He spent much of it outside, jogging through the city streets. He would occasionally play pickup games of basketball with whoever was in the local park, but he didn’t ever speak to them or consider them friends. He swam in the community pool at least three times a week. If he kept himself busy with things like that, he didn’t have to think about the feeling that he was somehow wasting his life, trapped in high school, biding his time.

He would not admit to himself that he was fiercely lonely.

When he was forced to be indoors, he would read or research, and even made a bit of an anonymous name for himself posting on various message boards, discussing military history and economics. He would have preferred to discuss current strategy, but he wisely considered that speaking too preciently about such things (or gathering too much information) was liable to earn him a visit from whatever the Alliance’s version of the secret police was. He had heard stories back on Odin, of course, of what happened to people there who were accused of harboring dangerous ideas. He had no desire to learn what the Alliance equivalent of that was. So, he kept his ideas about current military matters firmly to himself, though he kept a coded paper diary in which he carefully combed through the news and collected information. There was a lot that he could learn from doing this, though he wished he had access to information to confirm the things he learned. Above all, though, he was keeping an eye on the people: politicians and military leaders whose names and faces showed up in the news over and over, and he tried to pry through the propaganda and framing of the stories to determine who the real movers and shakers were, who should be trusted, and who should be avoided.

It kept him entertained, at the very least, giving him something to think about during endless class, or when he stood around cooking dinner for himself and his mother.

The one thing he was looking forward to in his life was Annerose returning from school for the winter solstice break. He had been keeping in close contact with her while she was at school, but her letters and phone calls had been remarkably anodyne, filled mostly with details about her classes, and with her only saying that she was doing a generic “fine”. She was a naturally private person, Reinhard knew, but when she was standing face to face with him, he usually had the ability to understand what she was thinking. Speaking only through messages and quick calls where he could hear her roommates moving around in the background was the opposite of what he wanted.

Finally, her winter break came. Reinhard met her at the airport, standing waiting in the crush of people for her to arrive.

Annerose looked different, dressed in her school uniform, the grey-green pants and jacket, with her hair cut very short. She hadn’t sent any pictures back, nor had she video called him, which Reinhard had thought had to do with her cramped living situation. He smiled at her.

“Welcome home,” he said when she got close enough. “Let me take your bag.”

“You don’t think I can manage it myself?” she asked, but she had a smile on her face.

“I know that you can,” he said, “but since you’ve been carrying it all day and I have not, it seems fair for you to let me take a turn.”

“If you insist.” She passed him her bag.

“Do you want to go right home, or can we get some lunch?”

“Is mom asleep?”

“She was when I left.”

“Then I suppose we can get lunch.”

“My treat.” They left the airport, and got on the city bus, not really speaking to each other until they arrived at a cafe near their apartment. The weather was cold and the sky threatened snow, so the windows of the cafe were steamy when they slid into a booth across from each other, Reinhard slipping Annerose’s bag underneath the table. 

“How have you been?” Reinhard asked after they got their lunch, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, looking at his sister. “Really.”

“I’ve been fine,” she said.

“Fine is a word that can mean so many different things.”

“My first semester classes went well, and I’ve made some friends. I get along with my roommates alright. I don’t know.” Something about the flick of her eyes out the foggy window as she answered the question made Reinhard sure that there was more. “How have you been doing?”

“Also fine,” Reinhard said.

“Ah, you turn my own words against me. You’ve been taking care of things at home?”

“Of course. And school is as it always has been.”

“No fights?”

“Of course not.”

“And have you made any friends?”

“Of course not.”

“See, that worries me,” Annerose said.

“There’s really no one here worth speaking to, especially now that you’ve gone to school. I’m glad to have you back.”

“I’m glad to be back, even if it’s just for a few weeks.”

“You said that you had made friends?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Tell me about them?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Is it wrong for me to take an interest in your life?”

“No.” She paused and took a sip of her coffee.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that there are people worth your while at school,” Reinhard said, casually. “I’m just curious to know what they’re like.”

“Well, one of them isn’t even a student,” Annerose said. She pulled out her phone and thumbed through her pictures, showing one to Reinhard. “That’s Jessica Edwards. She plays piano for my chorus group.”

“I didn’t know you were still taking chorus.”

“Well, we all need an elective. And I enjoy it.”

“I’m glad.”

“What’s she like?”

“Smart, passionate. She went out of her way to be helpful to me, which I didn’t appreciate at first, but I’ve definitely come around on.” Annerose smiled down at the picture, then swiped through to the next one. “This is us at the dance the women’s society put on this semester.”

In the photo, Annerose and Jessica were both wearing party dresses-- Annerose in a long blue gown, Jessica in a sparkling red one. Jessica was smiling and reaching up to tuck a flower over Annerose’s ear. Annerose was blushing and looking at someone outside the frame.

“Where’d you get the dress?” Reinhard asked. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“Jessica loaned it to me,” Annerose said. “I had to take it in a little to fit.”

“You look very pretty in it.”

“Thank you.” Annerose took the phone back, moved through another few pictures, then showed him a picture of a man with a smattering of freckles and floppy, light colored hair, chewing on a pencil as he waved a notebook in the air. “And this is Dusty Attenborough.”

“What kind of a name is Dusty?”

“I think he said he was named after his grandfather.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question. What’s he like?”

“He’s very sweet. He writes for the student paper and takes it very seriously. It’s like his baby. I met him because he was doing a writeup about the women’s society. He’s near the top of his class, though you wouldn’t know it from how little he seems to do schoolwork.”

“You like him?”

“He’s a very good friend,” Annerose said. The finality in her voice there put some ease in Reinhard’s mind.

She showed him another photo. “And this is me with my lacrosse team.” A whole bunch of muddy and smiling women stood posing for a photo, all with their arms around each other, and their lacrosse sticks leaning on the shoulder of the girl in front of them.

“You have been busy.” He didn’t know how he felt about all this. 

“I’m still the same as I always was,” she said, picking up on the odd note in his voice. “I’m looking forward to you joining me in a couple years, if you still want to.”

“Of course I still want to. Do you like it there?”

Annerose thought about her answer for a long second. “I would stay even if I didn’t. That being said, there are things that have been challenging, and there have been things that have been pleasant.”

“Are you happy?” Reinhard asked.

Annerose looked down at her sandwich. “That depends on how you mean it.”

“I don’t think that it has more than one definition.”

“You would be upset if I told you that I was happy in a place you weren’t.”

“No,” Reinhard said. “And I should perhaps be offended that you think I would be. I want you to be happy.”

“Then yes,” she said, quite delicately. “I am, I suppose.”

“Good.” He ate in silence for a few minutes, just watching her. She was clearly deep in thought about something, and Reinhard had no idea what it was. She wasn’t upset, because she wasn’t biting her lip, but she stared into space in a familiar way. She was still the same, after all, even if she had short hair.

“Why did you cut your hair, by the way?” he asked.

She ran her hand over her head. “You must think it quite ugly,” she said.

“No,” he said. “It brings out your cheekbones.”

“You might think of cutting your hair, sometime, then.”

“No,” Reinhard said, voice short.

“Why not?”

“I like it long.” As he said this, his hand went to the locket underneath his shirt. Annerose watched the movement.

“And that’s the only reason?”

“It is what I prefer, and we can leave it at that. But you didn’t tell me why you cut yours.”

“I’m not sure I should tell you.”

“Oh?”

She looked at him, considering. “To be forewarned is to be forearmed,” she said. “Do you want an unfair advantage?”

“That was done to you, then?”

“Yes.”

“And you let them.” His voice was sharp.

“Yes.”

“Why would you let them?”

She turned away slightly. “Perhaps it is hard for you to understand, but it is occasionally necessary to put myself aside, to achieve a greater goal.”

“You are not an object which others may use as they please.”

“I’m not, Reinhard?”

“I wouldn’t have let anyone touch you, if I was there.”

“I know,” she said with a slight smile. She reached across the table and touched a chunk of his long hair. “But I hope that you…” She trailed off.

He looked down at the table. “You’re saying that I must submit to such things?”

“If you wish to be a student there.”

It was Reinhard’s turn to scowl and look at the table. Perhaps it was childish that he didn’t want anyone to touch him. Perhaps it was a meaningless gesture, to want to keep the same hair that he had given Kircheis, several years ago now. It was a physical connection to the past. And beyond that, he hated the idea of being forced into humiliation.

“If I must,” he said finally.

“You have some time still to get used to the idea. And I could help you.”

“I’m not sure what kind of help you could offer.”

“It’s the upperclassmen who do it, at least at first. I could--”

“No,” he said. “If the point is to not look weak, having my own sister try to protect me would be a poor choice.”

“I suppose.” She stared out the window again. “I do want to help you in whatever way I can.”

“You are helping me,” he said. “I should stop being so ungrateful.”

She smiled at him. “You’re fine.” With an odd note in her voice, she changed the subject. “I’d like to go into Heinessenopolis sometime while on break. Would you care to accompany me?”

“Of course. What do you need there?”

“I’d like to pick up a few embroidery supplies for me to take back to school,” she said lightly.

“There’s no store near the academy?”

“Not that I’ve seen. Besides, I’d like a day trip.”

“And that’s all you want there?”

“That’s all I need.” To Reinhard, it sounded like an evasive answer, but he had no idea what she could want in the city, so he let it go. Perhaps she wanted to get him a solstice gift and was intending to bring him along to pick it.

“Sounds fine, then,” he said. 

* * *

Before the train ride into Heinessenopolis the next weekend, Annerose seemed unexpectedly jittery. She spent some time staring rather forlornly at the blouses and skirts in the closet that she had left behind when she had gone to school, fingering the well worn cloth. Reinhard watched her do this, sitting with his legs crossed at the desk chair.

“Do they not fit anymore? It’s not like you’ve grown any.”

“My arms have,” Annerose said, then flexed, which made Reinhard laugh at the sight. “But no, they probably do still fit.”

“Then I’m not sure what the problem is.”

“Just weird to not be in uniform.”

“Just pick the warmest ones. It’s cold out.”

But Annerose continued to hem and haw over her outfit choices, to the point where Reinhard got frustrated and took a walk around the block, hoping she would be done by time he got back. She was, having chosen a loose white blouse with a neckline that she had embroidered, and a blue, knee length skirt.

“At least you don’t have to spend time doing your hair,” Reinhard said. “Ready to go?”

“Yes.”

As they sat on the train in, Reinhard leaned on his sister’s shoulder. “What’s got you so worked up?”

She looked out the window, watching the industrial landscape of Wrightsville slide past. “I thought you didn’t notice.”

“I always notice.”

“I suppose you do.”

“So, are you going to tell me?”

“I’d like to meet up with a friend who lives in the city, after we get embroidery supplies.”

“Attenborough?”

“No,” she said. Her voice was very falsely even and calm when she said, “I don’t believe I mentioned him to you.”

“Oh? Who is he, then?”

“His name is Walter von Schenkopp.”

“A student?”

“Yes.”

“And what kind of friend is he?”

“A very good one.”

“How did you meet him?”

“We spoke briefly at a party, and then he played against me in a lacrosse game.”

“Why didn’t you mention him earlier?”

“I didn’t think you would react well.”

“I’m reacting well.”

She smiled at him and tousled his hair. “Sure.”

He huffed. “Do you have a picture of this Schenkopp?”

“I do.” She brought up a picture on her phone and showed it to Reinhard. In it, Schenkopp was sitting at a table in a restaurant, laughing at something. Reinhard studied the photo intensely. 

“He’s older than you are.”

“So is Jessica.”

“And why are you bringing me to meet him?”

Annerose slipped her phone back into her jacket pocket. “I believe that you will like him. And he may be useful to you in the future. Besides…” 

“Besides what?”

“He is important to me, and I would like all the people who are important to me to know and like each other.”

“You love him?”

“It might be premature to say that.”

“Please, tell me whatever is not premature to say.”

Annerose considered her words very carefully. “I have a relationship with him. I enjoy his company and he enjoys mine. That’s all.”

“And he respects you?”

“He’s been nothing but a gentleman to me.”

“If he ever lays a hand on you, I will kill him,” Reinhard said.

Annerose laughed, but it was a slightly uncomfortable sound. “Reinhard,” she said.

“What?”

“He’s fine. Please, don’t be rude to him. For my sake.”

“I can be polite.”

“I’m not sure what makes you so uncomfortable. I know you think that no one would be good enough for me, but I hope when you meet him, you’ll see that he is.”

“I will keep an open mind.” Reinhard drummed his fingers on the train seat armrest. “You must think me unfair.”

“No,” she said. “I understand why you have your reservations. It would be hard for me to blame you. It’s not as though I haven’t had my own reservations for you.”

“That is not the same at all.”

“It’s not?”

“You know it isn’t.” Reinhard looked away. “The reservations are completely different.”

“You think that I didn’t want to protect my younger brother, just like you want to protect me?”

“I at least won’t be so cruel as to ask you who you would choose: me or him.”

“You know I would choose you, Reinhard.”

He relaxed a little in his seat. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

“I would have hoped you already knew.”

* * *

At the specialty embroidery store in Heinessenopolis, Annerose lingered over the display of threads available and the array of backing fabrics and tools to pick from. 

“What are you planning to make?” he asked.

“My lacrosse team might like patches to put on our bags,” she said absently. “I could make a different one for everyone.”

“Oh, sounds nice.”

“And I just want something to do with my hands in the evenings. I miss it.” 

“As though you aren’t busy enough.”

“It’s not as though all my time is consumed,” she said with a smile. “Would you like me to make you anything?”

“No, you don’t have to.”

“Hm.” 

She bought what her budget could sustain, and then they headed out into the streets of the city, rather unfamiliar to both of them.

“Where are we meeting your, uh, friend?” Reinhard asked, turning up the collar of his jacket against the cold.

“Sixty-third and twelfth. He says there’s a decent restaurant there that’s not too far from his apartment.”

“Okay.”

It turned out to be a walk of several miles, but neither of them wanted to pay the bus fare, and they still had time to kill, so they walked it without complaint, seeing the sights of the city. Heinessenopolis was much nicer than Wrightsville, and was full of interesting architecture and statues in little street corners and plazas. Although Reinhard had little eye for fashion, he still enjoyed looking in the shop windows and watching the people they passed. It was a cold but mostly pleasant journey, even if Reinhard couldn’t keep his mind off the idea of the man they were going to meet.

When the restaurant came into sight around a corner, Annerose took a couple quick steps forward, then stopped, clearly overeager but pressing down her eagerness. Reinhard looked at her and frowned. “Is he there?”

“Yes,” Annerose said, and nodded at a man who was leaning underneath the awning of the restaurant, his hands in the pockets of a long black coat. 

“Don’t let me hold you back,” Reinhard grumbled.

“Don’t be silly.” Annerose grabbed his arm and gently tugged him forward a few steps. “Walter!” she called, waving her free arm.

The man looked up and straightened, taking a couple steps towards them. Annerose shook her head at him, and so he stayed where he was, and Annerose and Reinhard made their way all the way up to the restaurant. She let go of Reinhard when they were close, so that she could go stand in front of Schenkopp.

“Couldn’t even go a week without me, could you?” Schenkopp said with a broad smile. He leaned towards her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and kissed her.

Annerose laughed, and her hat fell off as she leaned backwards. Reinhard scowled and picked it up. “It seems that it’s you who couldn’t go without seeing me,” she said.

“Maybe so.” Schenkopp let her go, then looked behind her at Reinhard. He did a double take when he studied him. “This is your brother?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” Annerose said, slightly breathless. “I’m being impolite. Reinhard, this is my friend, Walter von Schenkopp. Walter, my brother, Reinhard.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Schenkopp said, offering his hand to Reinhard.

After a split second of hesitation, Reinhard shook it, though he crushed Annerose’s beret in his other hand with white knuckles as he did so. “I’m sure the pleasure’s mine,” he said, keeping the aggravation off of his face.

“You look so much like your sister; it’s almost scary.”

“We’re twins except for the five years between us,” Annerose said cheerfully. “Thank you for rescuing my hat,” she said, and took it back from Reinhard before he tore a hole in it with his fingernails.

“Just makes me think that you should grow your hair,” Schenkopp said. “Shall we go inside?”

“Time heals all wounds,” Annerose said. “It’ll be longer eventually.”

“I can hardly wait,” Schenkopp said, reaching out to trace with his index finger the short hair that lay above Annerose’s ear.

“Now, don’t be too forward, Mr. von Schenkopp,” Annerose said after half a second, though her smile indicated that she enjoyed the touch.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Ms. von Müsel,” he replied, dropping his hand and opening the door to the restaurant. A warm and spicy smell drifted out at them, though Reinhard was too annoyed to fully appreciate it. They got a table in the back, with Reinhard sitting next to Annerose, and Schenkopp across.

“I love this place,” Schenkopp said. “It was one of the few things I missed when I moved out.”

“I’m glad I will get the chance to enjoy it, then,” Annerose said, looking over the menu. “What do you suggest?”

“Lamb curry,” Schenkopp said without hesitation. “Best thing on the menu.”

“Sounds perfect,” Annerose said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it before.”

“You’re in for a treat, then. You like lamb, Reinhard?”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Reinhard said petulantly, which was a complete lie. When Annerose looked at him, Reinhard could tell that she was caught between amusement and exasperation, but was trying to cover up both of them.

“You’re in luck, then. The vegetarian section’s on the back page.” 

Reinhard was now committed to this facade, so he picked out a vegetarian dish. They made their order, and the waitress brought over flatbreads and their drinks.

“Are you staying here for all of the solstice break?” Annerose asked, fiddling her straw around in her soda.

“My grandmother would throw a fit if I didn’t,” he said. “Even though I’m paying rent on a perfectly good apartment back in Thernusen.”

“I’m glad that you’re here,” Annerose said. “There’s not that much to do in Wrightsville.”

“Do you get out to the capital often?”

“No,” Annerose said. “But now that I have a reason to…” She smiled.

“Perhaps I should make the trip out to see you.”

“She just said that there’s not much in Wrightsville,” Reinhard said.

“I’m sure that’s not true. Familiarity simply breeds contempt. You must do something for fun there, right?”

“No.”

“You didn’t tell me that your brother is the most serious teenager on the planet. He does nothing for fun?” 

“I believe I did mention that he was serious,” Annerose said mildly. “You can tell Walter how you spend your time.”

“I’m certain that there is nothing in it that would interest him. After all, I’m just a teenager with nothing to recommend me.”

“On the contrary,” Schenkopp said, “Annerose speaks very highly of you. That does make me curious.”

“But funnily enough, she never mentioned you.”

“Is that so?” Schenkopp asked, and grinned at Annerose. “It is an honor to be your secret lover.”

“Walter!” But she was smiling, too.

“Your sister is a fine woman. I’m sure she has her reasons for what she does.”

“Of course. Though usually they are far easier for me to understand.”

“So, how do you spend your time then?”

“I do my schoolwork. I do household chores. I run and swim. I write a blog about wartime economics.”

“One of those things is not like the others,” Schenkopp said. “What do you have to say about wartime economics?”

“No theory that couldn’t be learned from a fastidious reading of the daily news.” 

“Annerose told me that you’re planning to attend the academy-- is that still true?”

“Yes,” Reinhard said. “If they’ll take me when I graduate high school.”

“I was going to say, it’s too bad your friend Attenborough is going to have graduated by the time he gets there. You might make a good contributor to his beloved newspaper, if your blog is any good.”

“I prefer not to have my writing attached to my real name,” Reinhard said. “Besides, it’s just something to keep me entertained. If there is so much more to do at the academy, I won’t need such pastimes.”

“Oh, yes, there is much more to do. Isn’t there, Annerose?”

“You could join lacrosse as well,” she said. “Or any other sport, of course.”

“Perhaps,” Reinhard said.

“What did you mean when you said that you’d only attend the academy ‘if they’d take you’? Are you less academically fit than your sister?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Reinhard asked.

“Tell him what?” Annerose asked.

“For one thing, I’ll be two years younger than the usual freshman.”

“Oh, I know that,” Schenkopp said. “It’s probably not an issue, as long as you’re sixteen before the school year starts.”

“And I have a permanent mark on my school record. That will show up during the admissions process.”

“A permanent mark?”

“Do we really have to talk about this now, Reinhard?” Annerose asked.

“I’m curious,” Schenkopp said.

“A couple years ago, I mutilated a kid’s hand at school because he annoyed me. So that’s on my file.” He stared at Schenkopp with a cold expression.

Schenkopp leaned forward a little in interest, and ripped apart a piece of flatbread to eat it. “I have several questions.”

“I wouldn’t describe it as mutilated,” Annerose interjected. “And he did more than just annoy you. It was a schoolyard fight.”

“I do believe your brother is trying to intimidate me, Annerose,” Schenkopp said. “Should I be worried?”

“Maybe, if I wasn’t here to tell him to be on his best behavior. I would like the two of you to get along.”

“I’m prepared to get along with him just fine,” Walter said. “I’m behaving nicely.”

“Now you’re not,” Annerose pointed out. “You don’t have to compete with each other to be in my good graces. Gods know I’m not worth fighting over.”

“I beg to differ,” Schenkopp said.

“You most certainly are,” Reinhard said at the same time. They looked at each other: Reinhard, annoyed; Schenkopp, amused.

“There’s some common ground you can find, then. And I’m sure there’s plenty more of it,” Annerose said. 

“I’m sure,” Schenkopp said. “Annerose mentioned that I might be of use to you.”

“In what way?”

“Maybe I could teach you a thing or two,” Schenkopp said. “I was in a ground combat unit before training to become an officer. I could show you some things.”

Reinhard narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure what time you think that you will be doing that in, since you live half a continent away while you’re at school.”

“After lunch,” Schenkopp said. “I’d like Annerose to meet my grandmother, and we can go to the gym a buddy of mine owns. I’ll show you some moves.”

“Sure.”

Annerose looked between them. “And I don’t have to worry that you will cause problems for each other?”

“Of course not. I think it will be good for us to have some time to get to know each other, man to man,” Schenkopp said.

“Reinhard?”

“Fine,” he said. “I won’t kill him.”

Schenkopp laughed, but Annerose seemed actually relieved when she replied, “Good.”

“And I’m sure that you will love my grandmother,” Schenkopp said. “She loves to sew, so you’ll probably have something in common.”

“Do you take many women home to meet your grandmother?” Reinhard asked.

“Only the ones who are the most pleasant company,” he said with a wink.

“I’m sure I will love your grandmother,” Annerose interjected, before Reinhard could say something cutting. “Let’s talk about something else, though. Walter, last week you were telling me about your senior thesis, I’m sure Reinhard would be interested in that.”

* * *

Schenkopp lived in a third story apartment, overlooking a crowded street on which cart-vendors sold a dizzying array of wares. Before going upstairs, Schenkopp had stopped at one of these vendors and haggled over the price of a bag of apples. He ate one as they marched up the stairs, offering some to Annerose and Reinhard, who declined, one more politely than the other. Schenkopp opened the door to his apartment without even needing to unlock it.

“I’m home,” he called. His grandmother emerged from the kitchen down the narrow hallway. “Brought you some apples.”

Schenkopp’s grandmother was a wiry woman, with long salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a braid down her back. She swatted him with a tea towel, then took the bag of apples from him. “I had hoped these would be here before you brought your guests back,” she said. Turning to Annerose and Reinhard, she said, “You must be the von Müsels. I’m Walter’s grandmother.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. von Schenkopp,” Annerose said. “I’m Annerose, and this is my younger brother, Reinhard.”

“Nice to meet you,” Reinhard said. Although he disliked Schenkopp on principle, his spry grandmother was far less objectionable, and he was able to give her his most charming guest smile.

“Well, let’s not just stand in the hallway. Walter, show them into the living room. Be polite.”

Schenkopp led them into the living room, a cozy little space with rugs on the floor and quilts draped over the back of the couch and hung on the walls. “Oh, these are lovely,” Annerose said, admiring the one that was hung. “Your grandmother made that?”

“I did,” Mrs. Schenkopp called back to them from the kitchen, over the sound of the running sink.

“And is this you as a kid?” Annerose asked, looking at a framed school picture of a young boy, grinning mischievously at the camera. “You were so cute.” 

“Yes,” Schenkopp said. “Next you’ll be complimenting my uniform photo.”

“I see you in uniform every day,” Annerose said. “But yes, you look very handsome.”

Reinhard had wandered over to the bookshelf on the other end of the room, and was pulling out volumes and glancing at their tables of contents before putting them back. 

“Those were my grandfather’s,” Schenkopp said, standing behind Reinhard. “He worked as a ship engineer in the Empire. Never got to use those skills here when he defected, of course, but he still liked to stay knowledgeable about the topic.”

“You’d think the Alliance would put talent to good use.”

“I think there were several reasons he didn’t end up going back to that line of work,” Schenkopp said. “That was him.” He nodded at a photo on the wall, of a man who looked like an older version of himself, dressed in the imperial fashion.

“When did he die?”

“Five years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Reinhard said. He was more capable of being civil when the conversation had less to do with Annerose. 

“To everything there is a season,” Schenkopp said. “Though I’m planning to live to a hundred fifty.”

“Not exactly the easiest thing to manage when you’re in the Fleet,” Reinhard said.

“It will be for me,” Schenkopp said.

“You boast,” Annerose came up behind him. “But I’d rather have the boasts be true, regardless. I wouldn’t want to see you killed.”

He laughed at that. “I only boast about things I know are true.” He glanced at his watch. “How late were you planning on staying in the city?”

Annerose sighed. “Maybe another hour or two? I do want to get home to make sure my mother eats dinner.”

“Ah. Then Reinhard and I should take our little walk,” Schenkopp said. “My grandmother might like your help cutting apples for pie.’

“Certainly,” Annerose said.

“I can manage on my own,” Schenkopp’s grandmother called. “Are you really abandoning your lady friend here with an old woman?”

“You’re excellent company, grandma,” Schenkopp called back. “We should head out while her hands are occupied and she can’t grab us,” he said with a grin.

“Fine,” Reinhard said. He glanced at Annerose. “You’re fine here?”

“Better than fine,” she said. “Go ahead.” And she had a glint in her eye that let Reinhard know that this was a set up-- she and Schenkopp had definitely previously discussed him going somewhere with Reinhard on their own. Reinhard narrowed his eyes at her, but nodded and followed Schenkopp out.

They walked several blocks down the street, and then into a nondescript looking building with a sign on the front that read “Goldman’s Gym and Club”. Schenkopp walked confidently past the front reception desk, without signing in or anything, and then down a narrow and dim hallway, where he pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked a door, which led to a stairwell.

“You have your own private room?”

“No, just a key to the basement,” Schenkopp said. “I’m friends with the owner. He lets me come down here whenever there isn’t a class or anything.”

The basement room was spacious, considering the price of real estate in Heinessenopolis, and Schenkopp only turned on half the lights, revealing walls covered in equipment shelves, a slightly elevated boxing ring, walls covered in photographs, mats spread out on the floor, and a few dinky tables and chairs in the corner.

“Don’t just stand there. Take off your coat,” Schenkopp said. He tossed his coat onto one of the tables; Reinhard neatly hung his over the back of a chair, then stood with his arms crossed, watching Schenkopp.

“So, what is it you think you can teach me?” he asked.

Schenkopp walked over to one of the equipment cabinets and opened it. “I’m not particularly interested in teaching you anything.”

“Then why are we here?”

“Annerose seems to think that I should be genuinely worried about her baby brother taking a violent dislike to me. I’d like to figure out how much of her opinion of your talents is based in reality.”

“My sister is not a liar.”

“Ever swung an axe before?” Schenkopp asked, pulling one out of the cabinet with a scraping sound of metal on metal.

“I’ve split wood.”

“This will be very different, then.” He turned around and handed it to Reinhard, who investigated it. It was a single bladed thing, a bit over a meter long, with a spiked tip and a satisfying counterweight at the end. The blade on it was severely blunted.

“These are the bread and butter of ground troops,” Schenkopp said. “Goldman, the guy who owns this place, was in the Fleet for a long time. Likes to keep up his practice. Taught me a lot of what I know. Suppose I should thank him for that, someday.”

Reinhard ignored everything he was saying, and swung the axe experimentally. He liked the feeling of momentum it had, once he got it moving. Even blunted, he could tell that this would hurt to be hit with.

“Hands further apart,” Schenkopp said. “Like this.” He demonstrated on his own axe. “You want to have maximum control over the weapon at all times.”

“I know how it works,” Reinhard snapped.

Schenkopp continued as though he hadn’t said anything. “And make sure that wherever you put your dominant hand, you still have control when you switch to a single handed grip. So, don’t put it too low. Better to sacrifice a little bit of range by holding it higher than risk it coming out of your hand.”

Reinhard didn’t ignore him, but pretended to ignore him, as he repositioned his hands and swung again, feeling how carrying the axe changed how he needed to take steps, taking a slightly wider stance for stability. Schenkopp watched him do it for a second, then hopped up into the elevated ring, sitting with his chest behind the rope and his legs dangling over the edge. “Well, are you coming?”

Reinhard looked at him, then climbed into the ring himself. Schenkopp stood with exaggerated slowness, and they faced each other in the center of the ring.

“I’ll let you take the first swing,” Schenkopp said. “Hit me, if you can.”

Reinhard took a couple steps sideways, and Schenkopp moved the other direction, so they were slowly going in a circle.

Reinhard swung, then, a heavy, overhanded strike, and Schenkopp blocked it easily with the handle of his axe, twisting his arms counterclockwise to try to use the motion to pull the axe by its head out of Reinhard’s hands. Reinhard kicked at Schenkopp’s knees, and he was forced to hop backwards and drop the block to avoid it. Then they were back to circling each other.

“Real combat is fast,” Schenkopp said. “You won’t be thinking about dueling your every opponent. Don’t give time for somebody to come up on you from behind while you’re standing around.”

As Schenkopp said this, he took a swing right at Reinhard’s side, and Reinhard lept diagonally out of the way, though the spiked tip of the axe caught and snagged his shirt, ripping a hole in it. Reinhard retaliated instantly, taking a swing at Schenkopp’s extended arms, another overhanded strike. But Schenkopp let go of his axe with his left hand, dropped his right hand all the way down so that Reinhard’s attack missed, and twirled on his heel to swing one-handed at Reinhard’s shoulder. Reinhard brought his own axe up to block but barely made it, and the impact forced him backwards a few steps, almost to the edge of the ring. Schenkopp now pressed on him with both hands on his axe handle. 

Reinhard ducked, scraping his axe handle down along the length of Schenkopp’s, then rolled sideways, getting back to a crouch as quickly as he could, then making an underhanded swing at Schenkopp’s legs. Schenkopp jumped over it and brought his axe crashing down towards Reinhard, who was forced to roll out of the way again, feeling off balance. Schenkopp was larger, stronger, and more experienced than he was. It was an unpleasant feeling. He needed to find some way to turn the situation to his advantage. He was more nimble, perhaps, but that didn’t mean much. 

“What do you want from my sister?” Reinhard asked as he stood and circled the ring, keeping his voice even despite the exertion of the last few moments. 

“I don’t want anything,” Schenkopp said. “I--”

Reinhard jabbed his axe like a pike towards Schenkopp’s stomach as he was speaking, and Schenkopp stepped back and rather awkwardly knocked the handle of Reinhard’s blade away with his own.

“Is it because you’ve already gotten what you wanted?” Reinhard asked, hooking the back of his axe blade along the back of Schenkopp’s, trying to force it out of his grip.

“I enjoy spending time with her,” Schenkopp said mildly, and twisted his axe sideways, popping Reinhard’s catch off of it. He then swung lazily at Reinhard’s side. Reinhard jumped forward and blocked the swing. It was infuriating that Schenkopp was clearly putting in less than fifty percent of his effort. “And she isn’t doing anything that she doesn’t want to do, I assure you.” Schenkopp raised his axe again.

Reinhard saw an opportunity as Schenkopp’s arms were up, and he charged forward, crashing his shoulder into Schenkopp’s chest. Schenkopp took a step back, then brought the handle of his axe down, directly towards Reinhard’s head. Reinhard got out of the way just in time to avoid a true match ending injury, but the weighted back end of the axe still hit his left shoulder hard, and he almost dropped the axe as he stumbled back.

“What would you know about what Annerose wants?” he hissed.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Schenkopp said. “But I think she wants you to be happy for--”

Reinhard swung again, throwing his whole body into it, aiming for Schenkopp’s side. Schenkopp turned and blocked the swing, then kept turning, once again trying to pull Reinhard’s axe out from his hands. Reinhard twisted the axe to free it, then swung again in an overhead strike, and again was blocked. He kicked at Schenkopp, and Schenkopp took another step back, letting Reinhard swing again.

This time, as Reinhard swung, Schenkopp stepped sideways and brought his axe down, directly onto Reinhard’s back, too fast for him to dodge or block. Although it was a hard enough strike to bruise, it left no doubt in Reinhard’s mind that Schenkopp had been pulling his punches. If the blades had been sharp, and if Schenkopp had been swinging with intent, it would have been a fatal blow to Reinhard’s spine.

He had the sense and honor to know when he had been defeated, so he stood still for a fraction of a second, then very deliberately dropped his axe to the ground. He realized that he was out of breath, sweaty, and that his heart was pounding in his ears. Schenkopp leaned back against the ropes, twirling his axe in his hands idly. “Need an icepack?” he asked.

“No,” Reinhard said.

“You’re not too bad,” he said. “With a bit of training, and with your full height on you, I think you could get pretty good at this.”

Reinhard crossed his arms. “But not good enough to beat you?”

“Of course not,” Schenkopp said with a grin. “It’s good to know that for now, at least, I don’t have to be worried about you challenging me to a duel over your sister’s honor.”

“I try not to do things that would upset Annerose,” Reinhard said. “I believe that would fall into that category.”

“And hating me on sight does not?”

“You’re too old for her.”

“And if I was her same age, I get the feeling that you would find something else objectionable about me.”

Reinhard did not dignify that with a response, forcing Schenkopp to say, “I’m not the devil incarnate, and your sister can choose to be with who she likes.”

“That does not mean I have to trust you.”

“I understand why you have your reservations,” Schenkopp said.

“Do you?” He asked the question in the dryest possible tone.

“Annerose told me the reason you left Odin. It’s fair of you to be concerned for her, after that. But I’m not the kaiser, and this is not the Empire, and thank gods for both of those.”

“You wouldn’t want to be the kaiser?”

“What would I get out of it?” Schenkopp asked. “It’s far more pleasant to be with a woman, or anyone, when you know they aren’t just trying to…” He shrugged. “If people are spending their time on me, I hope it’s because they enjoy it, and not because they’re forced to.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“I like to imagine that most people feel the same way. The universe is not completely filled with evil.”

“It’s a nice dream.”

“Do you not feel that way?”

“What are you asking me?”

“Would you want to be the kaiser, if you had the chance?”

“I feel like you’re trying to trap me.”

“No,” Schenkopp said. “I’m just curious.”

“The problem with the kaiser is that he did nothing to earn his position, and he does nothing worthwhile with the power he has. To get to be the kaiser, I would have had to work for it, and once I was there, I wouldn’t tolerate people around me who wanted things without earning them.”

“Ah, but what would people have to do to earn things from you?”

“I am not a lecher,” Reinhard said, and his hand went to the locket under his shirt.

“You are also a child.”

“I believe that will remain true even when I am no longer so young. I do not have an easily changed mind.”

“I can tell. You’re just as stubborn as your sister.”

“I should hope that’s your attempt at complimenting her.”

“Of course. I’ve been trying to tell you that I respect a woman who makes up her own mind.”

“I understand that she likes you,” Reinhard said, through teeth he was resisting the urge to grit. “I simply don’t see why.”

“Well,” Schenkopp said, straightening up from where he leaned on the rope. “It’s probably for the best that you don’t!” He hopped down onto the basement floor. “I’m glad we were able to have this little talk, but we probably shouldn’t keep Annerose busy with my grandmother for too long.”

* * *

Later that night, Annerose and Reinhard sat in their room, speaking to each other in tones low enough that their mother wouldn’t hear through the thin apartment walls. The overhead light was off, so the old yellow desk lamp was the only source of illumination in the room. Reinhard was changing into his pyjamas, while Annerose was sitting on the bed, laying out embroidery thread on her lap desk.

“I apologize for dragging you into today without warning,” Annerose said.

“I had some warning,” Reinhard said. “You’ve been acting oddly since you arrived back home. I suspected something, but I didn’t know what it was.”

“It was rude of me to put you on the spot, when I knew you would be unhappy.”

“If I cannot handle meeting a friend of yours, I hardly deserve to be allowed outside the house,” Reinhard said, taking off his shirt and inspecting the hole in it. “May I borrow a needle and thread?”

“Why?” Annerose asked, glancing up at him.

He held up the shirt. 

“How did that happen?” Annerose asked, voice a little light.

“Your boyfriend snagged me with an axe.”

“An axe.”

“How does my bruise look?” Reinhard said, turning around to show her his back.

“And how did that happen?”

“I lost the fight,” Reinhard said.

“I see.” Annerose leaned over towards the desk and reached into the drawer, pulling out a spool of plain thread and a needle. “Give me that,” she said.

“I can do it.”

“I’d rather.” So Reinhard handed her the shirt, and she pushed her embroidery aside to thread the needle and mend the tear. As she began stitching, she asked, “And why were you fighting with Walter?”

“He wanted to see if I was a threat to him.”

Annerose jabbed the needle into Reinhard’s shirt. He watched her with a calculating expression. “And you tried your best to be one, I assume.”

“I wasn’t going to deliberately lose.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“You were the one who wanted me to go with him.”

“I thought that you could have a civil conversation.”

“It was very civil.”

“I wouldn’t call hitting you with an axe civil at all.”

“War is a foundational part of civilization,” Reinhard said, sitting down on his bed, which was really a blanket laid out on the floor. “Anyway, we did talk. It was his idea.”

“I thought he was going to show you a few moves.”

“I learned some things.”

“Through fighting with each other. You could have said no.”

“I would have looked like a coward.”

“There are sometimes more important things in the world than the way one looks, Reinhard.”

“I don’t understand why you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You are.”

“I think it’s ridiculous that you dislike him, and you’re trying to spin this conversation to make me dislike him. You’re better than this.”

“Am I?”

“Are you what?”

“Better than this? I don’t think I am.”

“I understand,” Annerose said, voice rather icy, “that you are young. And I understand that you have legitimate concerns for my well being. And I understand that men enjoy hitting each other to work out their problems. But you also knew that I wouldn’t like it.”

“Must I avoid doing things simply because you wouldn’t like them?”

“I would appreciate that very much,” Annerose said.

“But it’s unfair of me to ask the same of you.”

“What do you want from me, Reinhard?” Annerose asked, biting her lip and looking down at his shirt in her hands.

He was silent for a second and stared at her, taking in the slump of her shoulders and the way that her fingers dug deeply into the fabric she held. “Nothing,” he said finally. “I don’t own you. Do what makes you happy.” His voice was stiff and flat, and he lay down on his blanket, facing the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is quite obviously from this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ph91_AVTovE . Extremely 2009 energy coming off that youtube lyrics video. I actually wrote the funny line in question before thinking of it, and then I was like. oh my god. tell your boyfriend if he says he's got beef I'm a vegetarian and I eat leaf
> 
> When Reinhard feels antagonized by his one (1) remaining moderating influence, I feel like he's way more likely to behave badly. Or at least be blatantly rude. I've been watching through the gaidens rather slowly and in HBSHBL he's so pissed off about everyone and everything, and Kircheis is there to be like "let's think of this as a learning opportunity :) " lol. Anyway there is no way that untrained baby Reinhard would be able to beat Schenkopp. Maybe in a few years, but I think it's clear from the Schenkopp vs Kircheis axe battle in HBSHBL that Schenkopp is better than he is, and I think Kircheis and Reinhard are approximately equals, so [shrug emoji].
> 
> Thanks to Schenkopp for teaching us all a valuable lesson about consent, or something. lmao. somebody has to be the one to stand there and talk directly about the themes of the story. When I don't have a Yang "Blatant Authorial Mouthpiece" Wenli around, somebody else has to step in to the task :p
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe out there.
> 
> Thanks to Lydia for the beta read. check out my original fiction @ bit.ly/arcadispark or bit.ly/shadowofheaven . I'm javert on tumblr and @natsinator on twitter


	7. The Red Rose and the Briar

_ November 789 U.C., Heinessen _

The spring semester passed in a blur for Annerose. She was busy almost all the time with one thing or another. Jessica got her to participate in even more women’s society activities, she joined the spring intramural soccer session, and her schoolwork became more demanding as the year went on. And, of course, she spent a lot of time with Schenkopp.

She ate dinner with him several times a week, either at a restaurant or, more commonly, in his apartment off campus. It was a small and neat place, and he was a surprisingly good cook. On Tuesdays, the only day when their class schedules didn’t clash badly, they would eat lunch together. If the weather was nice, they would sit underneath the huge tree in front of the library; if the weather was poor, they would deign to eat in one of the dining halls. Schenkopp invited her to things (parties, bowling with his friends, a professional soccer match he had won tickets to), and invited himself to her activities (her chorus concerts, the occasional intramural match). She didn’t admit to herself that she liked it when he asked if he could come somewhere with her, but she definitely did.

Her annoyance over his “fight” with Reinhard faded quickly. They had spoken about it over the phone the day after it had happened, and he had apologized for misjudging the situation. However, he apparently had formed a rather positive opinion of Reinhard during the whole thing, shocking Annerose, so, when he complimented her brother, she couldn’t help but be a little pleased. And then he had offered to show her how to use an axe (“Because, you never know, you might end up needing it in the future.”) and she had taken him up on the offer. She could justify it to herself by saying that it was a useful skill, and she would be stupid not to learn something that could save her life or give her an advantage. But really, that was neither the reason that she said yes, nor the reason that he had offered, and they both knew it.

She liked to see him move, and she liked the feeling of him watching her. She liked when he put his hands on her, to adjust her position or to show her something. She liked to feel the weight of the axe, and her blood pounding in her ears. At first, she had been afraid of it, worried that she would actually manage to hurt Schenkopp, but he first encouraged her to use her whole strength, then sternly told her that she would be building bad habits if she didn’t. So, she did, and found that there was a certain thrill in letting herself go. 

She liked the rare times when she managed to get the advantage on him, either through mistake or skill or trickery, and he would say something like, “Well, Ms. von Müsel, what are you going to do with me, now that you have me on the ground?” It always embarrassed her, to see him smile like that from whatever compromised position she had him in, and she would back off, but she would always spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

And she liked the evenings she spent in his apartment, when he would lean over her on the couch and kiss her, and smile, and run his hands up over her sides. The first time it had happened, he had asked, “Do you want this, Annerose?” and she hadn’t known how to respond, her thoughts crashing around in her head. She didn’t want to want. But the fear of her own desire didn’t stop the desire from being there, and it certainly didn’t stop Schenkopp from also being right there, wanting to give her what she wanted. She had let herself be carried along into this situation, every step justifying her actions with some weak ulterior motive, but there was no acceptable excuse here, and she didn’t like being confronted with that truth. But she did like being there, so she managed to nod, and that was enough, and it was a simpler matter from there.

Annerose was, perhaps for the first time in her life, truly happy.

One warm Thursday night, after the women’s society meeting, Jessica had invited her and Dusty out to get ice cream from a place a few blocks off campus. They sat on the metal tables outside, underneath a humming bright light, eating their desserts.

“I can’t believe you’re graduating, Dusty,” Jessica said. “Who’s going to write our glowing column now?”

“The editor-in-chief is also graduating, so maybe you’ll get someone who’s less of a stick in the mud about women, and let one of your actual society members do it. You could write for the Liberty Bell, Annerose.”

“Why is it that people are always trying to get me to do things for them?” Annerose asked. “I’m very busy, you know.”

“It’s because you don’t say no often enough,” Jessica said. “You’re too reliable.”

“I’ve said no to plenty of things,” Annerose protested. “Besides, my writing is nothing special.”

“A two hundred word monthly writeup of the women’s society’s activities doesn’t exactly require Shakespearian prose,” Dusty said. 

Annerose shook her head. “If they don’t find someone else to write it, maybe I’ll consider it. But it’s premature to worry about until the fall.”

“I just want to be sure I’m leaving it in good hands.”

“You don’t trust your underclassmen in the club?”

“About as far as I can throw them,” Dusty said. “Some of them have the worst taste.”

“You’ll just have to start a zine of your own when you get to your assignment,” Jessica said. “Whatever ship you’re posted on, provide them with some enlightening literature.”

Dusty laughed. “Maybe.”

“Do you know where you are going to be posted?”

“Not a clue,” Dusty said. “But if I spent too much energy hypothesizing about it, I’d drive myself crazy.”

“Maybe you’ll end up in the sixth fleet with Jean,” Jessica said.

“A fleet’s a big place; it seems statistically unlikely we’d be anywhere near each other.”

“Sure,” Jessica said. “I don’t deny that.” She sighed a little.

“Tell you what,” Dusty said, “If I do see him, I’ll pester him to propose to you.”

“Please don’t,” Jessica said. “That would be too weird.”

“Or maybe, in my zine that you want me to write, I’ll just end every issue with a reminder for everybody to go propose to their girlfriends, because life is short, and it’s better to get married.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Annerose said, but she laughed.

“Maybe so,” Dusty said with a grin. He changed the topic. “What about you, what are you doing at the end of the year?”

“Going back home,” Annerose said. “It will be good to see my brother again. Though Wrightsville itself is pretty boring.”

“That’s pretty close to Heinessenopolis, right?” Jessica asked.

“Like a half hour by train,” Annerose said. "Have you been to Heinessenopolis?”

“A couple times, with my dad.” Jessica tapped her chin. “Were you paying attention at the meeting tonight?”

“Of course.”

“So you were listening when people were talking about the summer placement program?”

“I thought that was only for upcoming juniors and seniors.”

“They get priority, but anyone can apply,” Jessica said. “I think you’d be a good fit for it.”

“Why?”

“Number one: you’re a woman, and women have preferential placement, which is why we were talking about it at the meeting. Number two: you’re near the top of your class, so it would look good for you to get as many opportunities as you can. Number three: since you live in Wrightsville, you’d get placed somewhere in Heinessenopolis, which is where all the most interesting positions are, so that’s a plus. Number four: if you’re not doing anything else with your summer, you might as well apply. Jean went through the program, and he thought it was really valuable, so I might as well pressure you into doing one more thing.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to apply,” Annerose said after a second. “Aren’t you worried that someday I will start to resent you trying to help me so much?”

Jessica laughed. “Help, or incessantly meddle in your life. Should I be worried?”

“Probably not,” Annerose said. “I’ve gotten used to you by now.”

“And that means you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

“Not until I graduate, anyway.”

Jessica sighed. “Things will be different with you gone, Dusty.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive without me. Besides, I don’t think it’s me you’ll miss most.”

“What do you mean?” Annerose asked.

“Isn’t your boyfriend graduating, too?” Dusty asked.

Annerose frowned and nodded.

“You shouldn’t have made friends with a bunch of seniors as a freshman,” Dusty said. “Bad practice.”

“Too late now,” Jessica said. “But I’ll still be around, as always.”

Annerose smiled, but she bit her lip. Dusty reminding her that Schenkopp was graduating had spoiled the mood, and her ice cream was suddenly no longer appetizing. She stared out into the dark city street, suddenly seized by the feeling that the happiness that had been carrying her through the school year was about to be cut short.

* * *

Annerose and Schenkopp went out to dinner together the next night, ostensibly to celebrate the completion and submission of Schenkopp’s senior thesis. It was a nicer restaurant than they usually went to, so they had both dressed up slightly and Annerose had put on makeup, which wasn’t generally practical for day-to-day wear at the academy.

When she met him in the dim restaurant lobby, he said, “You look stunning this evening.” 

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she replied, though she reached up to straighten his collar as she said this. He took her hand and kissed it, which almost distracted her from the anxieties about the future that she was holding tightly in her mind.

They sat down in a little booth, with a flickering candle in between them. Schenkopp ordered a bottle of wine, and when they received it, Annerose raised her glass and said, “To finishing your senior year.”

“To surviving your freshman year,” he replied, raising his own glass.

“I think I did slightly better than just survive,” Annerose said, taking a sip.

“That you did, indeed.” He smiled at her, though he seemed distracted by something, which was quite unusual for him. He drummed his fingers on the side of his wine glass, producing a faint pattering sound.

“Is there something on your mind?” Annerose asked.

“I received an answer to a question I asked a while ago,” Schenkopp said. “I suppose I have been giving it too much thought.”

“What was the question?”

“You know how I was posted to a combat unit before I came here, right?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t remember?”

“I’m just trying to set the story up in context,” Schenkopp said with a smile. “I’m a non-traditional student here; this is technically part of my ‘employment’ within the Fleet, which is why I can afford an apartment to myself.”

“I must have assumed your grandmother was paying for it.”

“It’s somewhat the other way around,” he said. “I’ve been sending her part of my paycheck to support keeping her in her apartment ever since I joined the Fleet. Heinessenopolis is a very expensive city.”

“I didn’t realize that,” Annerose said.

“I didn’t want her to have to move into a worse place after my grandfather died. Anyway, that’s not the point.” He fiddled with his napkin for a second. “Unlike traditional cadets, active duty Fleet members do have a limited ability to request their next assignment. Really limited, I mean.”

“In what way?”

“Well, if you ask for a position on the front lines, patrolling the exit to the Iserlohn corridor, you’ll probably get it, since it’s not exactly a desirable place to be if you value your own skin. But if you request a desk job on Heinessen, you’re highly unlikely to get anything of the sort. You know how it is.”

“I see.”

“I guess you can see where this is going. I put in my request, and I got the reply that my request had been approved.”

“Congratulations,” Annerose said. “Where are you going to be?”

“I’ll be joining the Rosen Ritter.”

Annerose nodded. “That’s entirely imperial expats, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you ask to go there? It seems like…” She trailed off, not wanting to offend.

“It seems like what?”

“It will be hard to advance there, right?”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s a ground combat unit, which I think already makes it more challenging, and then, well, does it look good for former imperials to rise through the ranks?”

“I’m not particularly concerned,” Schenkopp said, leaning back and taking a sip of his wine. “Several of the former regimental commanders went on to become flag officers, so there is some up and out. But even if there wasn’t…” He shrugged. “The top of the pyramid in the fleet is very narrow indeed. It’s not that I have no ambition, but I’m not going to let ambition get in the way of going where I think I’ll fit best.”

“Fit best?”

“I am a former imperial. And I prefer ground combat to space battles. Being the captain of a ship feels far too clinical for me. Same reason I didn’t originally want to come here, you know. Didn’t think I’d like the atmosphere.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” he grinned at her. “You could join me, when you graduate.”

“You see me as a ground combat specialist?”

“Why not? You’re more than half decent with an axe. And you are also a former imperial. You’d look quite good in the propaganda.”

Annerose frowned. “You know, when we first came here, Reinhard made us turn down money to be on one of those propaganda shows about imperial refugees.”

“How old was he back then?”

“Ten,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “But you wouldn’t have known it from the way he was behaving.”

“So, you’re averse to being propaganda on his behalf.”

“I think he was averse to it on mine.”

“Why do you think that is?” Schenkopp asked.

“Oh, he said it at the time. He was still very upset at the idea that I was a product that could be bought and sold for consumption. If it had been up to me, I probably would have done it and taken the money.”

“So I see no objection to you also joining the Rosen Ritter in a few years,” Schenkopp said.

“And if I say I will?”

“It’s your choice, of course. Don’t say yes simply on my behalf.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Well, don’t commit yourself to it right this second, at least,” he said. “A lot can change in three years.”

“Such as what?”

He smiled. “I’m certain you’ll find someone else here who you’ll want to spend your time with, and when he asks you to follow him, it might be easier for you to say yes to that.”

“What are you saying?” Annerose asked, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

“What do you mean?” Schenkopp asked. “I’m saying you have plenty more time to enjoy yourself at school. Don’t make promises now that you’ll feel bad about breaking in the future. I’m just saying that joining the Rosen Ritter will be one option out of many, and you could seriously consider it.”

She was trying to say something, or formulate something to say, when the waitress brought over their food. Schenkopp dug into his immediately, though he glanced up at Annerose, noticing that she was biting her lip and barely picking at her salad.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“I guess I just don’t understand,” she said. “Are you done with me?”

“What?” Schenkopp seemed confused. “I’m not leaving for almost another month.”

Annerose stared at the candle on the table between them, feeling like the flame was somehow moving in time to her heartbeat. The center of it burned a dark spot into her vision, but she didn’t look away. “You’re telling me that I should find someone else.”

“I don’t want you to be lonely,” he said. “What would be the point of that?”

“And you?”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Schenkopp said, though his voice was hesitant, as though he was aware that she already had. “I don’t make promises to people about what I’m going to do with myself. I think you’re a great person, Annerose, and I love spending time with you. I have enjoyed every moment we’ve spent together, and I will continue enjoying those moments for as long as you’ll continue to let me. But I don’t want to be-- can’t even imagine myself being-- lonely for the next three years.” He shrugged. “If you do decide to join the Rosen Ritter, when you get there, or whatever you’re doing when we meet up in the future, then we can maybe enjoy each other's company again.”

“Oh,” Annerose said. She felt like that was all she could manage without crying, and she wasn’t going to cry in front of Schenkopp-- no, she wasn’t going to cry in the restaurant into her salad-- no, she wasn’t going to cry at all. 

“I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear to you,” Schenkopp said. “And I’m very sorry if you feel like I’ve been leading you on.”

“I gave you everything,” Annerose said. “I thought--”

“You didn’t ask for a promise from me, and I didn’t ask one from you.” He looked at her, his expression gentle. “If you had, I wouldn’t have given you one. I wish I had realized that you wanted something more.”

“What I wanted?” Her voice was slightly bitter now, unintentionally. She stabbed at her salad with her fork. “I should not have been so forward as to want things.”

“Annerose,” he said. “It’s not wrong to have needs.”

Her face felt like it was on fire. “Let’s be clear, Walter,” she said, though her voice was cracking, “I do not need you.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

She took a drink from her wine, hated the taste suddenly, but finished her glass. She didn’t speak anymore, and she ate her dinner quickly, trying not to look at Schenkopp. She was aware that he was looking at her, though. A hot, bubbling feeling sat in her chest, and she struggled to push it down, to call it irrelevant and nothing. The feeling of his eyes on her made it worse. The fact that he wasn’t saying anything made it worse. 

She wished that she could say that she didn’t care, or even that she hated him, but it was clear that neither of those things were true. She had told Reinhard months ago that it would have been premature to say that she loved Schenkopp, and it had been premature then, and then it had been something she hadn’t wanted to admit to. Wanting! She was angry at herself, and she hated herself for being a fool, and she hated herself for still wanting, regardless of how much she sat there and burned and tried to cut the feeling out of herself.

They finished eating, and Schenkopp paid. Outside the restaurant, the air was warm and smelled like it was going to rain. The sun was down below the edges of the buildings, turning the sky blistering shades of red, clouds approaching dark and heavy from the other direction. A stiff wind was blowing, scattering litter down the street.

“Can I safely assume that you don’t want me to walk you back to your dorm?” Schenkopp asked.

“I don’t think you should assume anything about what I want,” Annerose said, the anger spilling out into her voice, against her better judgement.

“Oh?” Schenkopp looked at her oddly. She stiffened her lip and stared at him, chin slightly lifted. 

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything else, but when he started walking, she followed him. They were going in the same direction, after all. His apartment was quite close to campus. They walked in an ugly silence for a little longer, the sky growing dimmer and the wind growing somewhat stronger, pushing them along the street.

When they arrived at the place where their paths would diverge, in front of the student union building, they both stopped. 

“I’m not making assumptions about what you want,” Schenkopp said. “So you’ll have to tell me. Do you want me to say goodnight, or goodbye?”

For some reason, this made Annerose even angrier. She stepped towards him. “Mr. von Schenkopp,” she said, “why do you think I would want you to say anything?”

“Well, I--” he began, looking down at her.

She didn’t really understand the feeling that was possessing her, but she acted on it. If everything between them was lost anyway, what should it matter what she did? 

Annerose reached up and pulled on the collar of his shirt, dragging him down towards her. There was surprise on his face for a brief second, but then Annerose was too close to even see his face, and she was pressing her mouth to his. When he opened his mouth a little, she took the opportunity to bite his lower lip, not gently at all. He made an odd sound, halfway between a laugh and something else, and pressed towards her, his hands finding her waist. She let go of his collar and put her hand on the back of his head instead, grabbing and twisting her fingers in his thick, curly hair, not caring that she was pulling it.

She had to pull back and take a breath after a moment, and a heavy drop of rain landed on her nose. She made the mistake of looking at Schenkopp’s face, which was flushed in the same way it sometimes was when she got him against the wall during their axe practice, and he said, “So, you are so forward as to want things, after all, Ms. von Müsel.”

“Shut up,” she said. Another raindrop fell, dripping down her cheek, and then there were a few cold splashes right into the center of her hair, running down her scalp. She shoved him in the direction of his apartment, and he took a few steps, walking backwards. She followed. He grinned at her.

* * *

The next afternoon, Annerose lay listlessly on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her roommates were out, and she was stewing alone. She could have gone to see Schenkopp-- he wasn’t usually doing anything at this time on Saturdays-- but considering that she had left his apartment that morning, and he was the source of her stewing, that seemed like the wrong thing to do. She should be studying, or going for a jog to clear her head, or getting some lunch at the dining hall, but she was doing none of those things. Frustrated with herself, Annerose got out of bed and sat at her desk, twisting the embroidery thread that was laying there around her fingers.

Maybe doing some embroidery would calm her down. The problem was, she didn’t have a project in progress, so she would have to start something entirely new, which was always fraught. 

She pulled her notebook towards herself and put her pencil in her hand, intending to sketch out a couple designs before getting out fabric and thread. She had her sample threads pinned up above her desk, so she knew what colors she had available, and she stared at them as she thought about her design.

Unfortunately, her brain was still extremely full of thoughts of Schenkopp, which made thinking of alternative embroidery projects a rather futile exercise. She finally gave in, and started sketching out something that she thought he would like. It might as well be something he would appreciate when he went away, something that he could look at and be reminded of her, but he probably wouldn’t want something too ostentatious or girlish. He might appreciate the gift, even if it was-- she thought he was that type of person-- but she wasn’t going to make life difficult for him for no reason.

The idea that she settled on was a fairly simple one, requiring only four colors: black, tan, red, and green, though she considered that touches of white or shades of the main set might not go amiss. She sketched out a hand loosely gripping a rose, with the rose’s stem wrapping tightly around the wrist, thorns drawing blood. It was a suitably interesting image, and she had plenty of experience embroidering flowers. She gathered up a piece of cloth to sketch the design onto, but then paused.

Maybe she was being absurd.

She put her pencil down, then picked it back up again, then put it back down. What was she trying to do, here? She didn’t know. She was losing her mind, perhaps.

It was at that moment that her phone buzzed in her pocket. She was at first reluctant to look at it, thinking that the message was probably from Schenkopp, but then she steeled herself and did. Her anxiety had been unwarranted; it was Dusty, asking if she had finished her application to the summer placement program.

> yes, I submitted it yesterday afternoon

> is this really Jessica telling you to pester me?

< no, I just was wondering if you would want me to read over your personal essay, and offer my professional expertise as a journalist and poet extraordinaire

< unfortunately, it’s already done and gone

< you’re fast

> I’m efficient, which is different

> hey, Dusty, can I ask your advice on something

< of course

< what’s up

> maybe this is better discussed in person

< boy trouble? lol

< i can meet you at the periscope now if you want (i’m already there)

> ok, I’ll be there in 10

> thanks

The Periscope was a coffee shop a few blocks away from campus. Annerose abandoned her embroidery project and gathered her keys and wallet to go out. The storm from the night before had continued as a light rain throughout the night, leaving the day sticky with humidity, and the sidewalks plastered with green leaves that had been ripped from their branches and glued to the ground with the water. She scuffed some of them up as she walked, not feeling so much a satisfaction from the action as a frustration that she just had to let out. She hated feeling this way.

Dusty was in the back of the coffee shop, sitting at a table with his computer in front of him, typing away at something. He waved at Annerose when she came in, but she bought herself a drink before she sat down with him. 

Annerose was quiet for a little while, holding her cup of coffee in both hands and staring down into it. Dusty waited for her to say something, but it apparently took too long for his patience, so he closed his computer and said, “Well?”

“Am I going crazy?” Annerose asked. “Is that what this is?”

“I think you’ll need to give me a little more context,” Dusty said. “What did Schenkopp do?”

“I don’t think he did anything,” Annerose said. She looked out the window they were sitting near. “He’s graduating. I knew that.”

“Sorry I brought it up the other day.”

“It was going to come up whether you mentioned it or not.” Annerose stirred her coffee. “It’s an unavoidable fact.”

“So, he called things off with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“It seems like an important thing to clarify.”

She sighed heavily. “I had made assumptions that I probably shouldn’t have.”

“What, were you having dreams that Schenkopp would propose to you?” Dusty laughed. “You are aware of his reputation, correct?”

“Of course I’m aware.”

“Did you imagine that you’d be the exception that proves the rule?”

“This is making me sound like I’m some kind of fool,” Annerose said. “When I look at him, I seem to lose the vast majority of my rational thought and common sense.”

Dusty snort-laughed. “There are worse things to lose.”

“And I’ve lost all of those, too, I’m sure.”

“You know it’s normal to have feelings like that, right?” Dusty asked. “You seem actually upset by that, so I’m just making sure.”

“It might be fine for other people!”

“But not for you?”

“I don’t like to think of myself as some stupid, lovesick…” Annerose bit her lip.

“So what?” Dusty asked. “It’s not like it’s hurting anybody.”

“I don’t like to be this way.”

“And what way would you prefer to be?”

“Able to make decisions about the future without my personal feelings getting all tied up in it.”

“Did you actually come here for me to philosophize at you?” Dusty asked, leaning on his elbows and grinning. “Because I should tell you that trying to make a decision for the future that takes your happiness into account will probably end with a better result than the opposite.”

“I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you because… You’d probably give me the sanest advice.”

“This shocks and thrills me to my core. Why not Jessica?”

“You think talking with her about how Schenkopp is going to behave when he leaves is going to do her any good? She’s got a boyfriend in the fleet who won’t propose to her.”

“And your roommates?”

“One of them I doubt has had a romantic thought in her life, and the other two have their own issues.”

“And your brother?”

“Would probably kill Walter if given half an opportunity.”

“I see,” Dusty said. “I’m the option of last resort.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Last resort would be me phoning up my mother.”

“And why shouldn’t you call your mother?”

“She would probably be disappointed in me. Besides, anything I tell her would get back to Reinhard, eventually.”

“I get it, I get it,” Dusty said. “So, what advice are you actually looking for?”

“I don’t even know.” She figured she might as well describe what had happened at dinner the night before. “He told me that he’s joining the Rosen Ritter, and then told me that I could also join it, when I graduated.”

“That’s promising. Do you want to?”

“I don’t know!”

“Okay, so what did you say to him?”

“He told me that I shouldn’t make a decision on it right then, because I would probably start dating somebody else in the interim.”

Dusty laughed. “And how did you take that?”

“Not well.”

“Did he assume that you were breaking up with him?”

“I think he assumed that we would mutually agree to go our separate ways, without really discussing it.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. It makes sense.”

“Going separate ways, or not discussing it?”

“Both. You really should have kept his reputation in mind.”

“I know I should have, but I didn’t.”

“So, then what?”

“When we left dinner, I thought we were done, but then, I don’t know, something came over me, and I acted… Uncharacteristically.”

Dusty wore an expression that was both curious and cheeky. “And what way was that?”

“Are you actually looking for the lurid details?”

“I didn’t think you would be the type to provide them, even if I said yes.” But his eyebrows crept even further upwards as he said this.

“I was so angry at him,” she said. “I guess I was mad that he had made all these assumptions, and I was mad that he was going to leave me, and I was mad at myself for being so stupid.”

“This has been established. But what did you do?”

“What do you think I did?” She was growing increasingly frustrated with her own inability to communicate the particular state she had been operating in. She couldn’t truthfully explain it to herself, and she felt like she was sounding as crazy as she had been acting. “I tried to hurt him, I guess.”

“You hit him?”

“No,” she said. “I forced him to kiss me, and then I pulled his hair and bit him.”

“Annerose, you know he’s absolutely wanted you to do that for months, right?”

“What?”

“Well, not that exactly, maybe, but I’m not blind. There’s a reason he spends so much time teaching you to wave an axe around: so you can be just as crazy as he is.”

“But I would have been upset if the positions were reversed.”

“Was he upset?”

“No.”

“You’re two different people, and he likes what he likes. You would have stopped if he hadn’t liked it, right?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“I feel like you would have come to your senses if he had told you to stop.”

“I hope so.”

“I’m not really seeing a problem here,” Dusty said.

“I went home with him.”

“Did you have a good time?”

Annerose stared down at the tabletop. “Yeah.” In fact, she had had an excellent time.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I shouldn’t have done any of that.”

“If you actually want to break up with him, then break up with him,” Dusty said after a second. “If you don’t, then enjoy the time you have together. It’s really pretty simple.”

“It doesn’t feel simple.”

“You think too much. Let me break it down for you. You’re attached to him. Unfortunate, maybe, because you’re going to be sad when he leaves, but there’s nothing that can be done about that. You’ll get over it eventually, I’m sure. In the meantime, you can either decide that it makes you happier to end things now, because you’re preparing for him to go, or you can decide that things will end when they end, by him leaving. He’s not going to change his mind and make some kind of eternal promise to you, whatever you do, so you might as well make the choice that makes you happy now.”

Annerose bit her lip. “So, you’re saying I should keep digging myself into this hole.”

“You have such a bleak view of love and happiness. It’s like you grew up in a stifled household, or something.”

“You’re not exactly helping.”

“I knew I was the wrong person to ask.”

“Sorry,” Annerose said. She shook her head, unable to explain her thoughts.

“Really, it’s him you should be talking to about this, not me.”

“If I see him, I stop being able to think right.”

“I should add your own rational brain to the list of things you have a bleak view of.”

“Maybe there’s nothing that I even have to say to him.” She paused. “You know what’s so stupid? Before I came here, I was starting to make him a gift. Even after he basically told me he was breaking up with me.”

“It’s fine to give him a gift and part on amicable terms. Besides, he told you to join the Rosen Ritter. That means he definitely wants to see you again.”

“I don’t know if that’s what that means. I think he might just legitimately believe I would be good there.”

“Even better. That means he respects you as a person.”

“He always has, I think.”

“And that is the trouble, isn’t it. It would be easier for me to give you advice if he was some kind of beautiful, malicious idiot.”

“And what advice would you give me then?”

“I’d have told you to break up with him before you even started dating him.”

“Too late on that.”

“He’s fine.  _ You’re _ fine. I think you’re stressed out for no reason.”

“I wouldn’t call it no reason.”

“You’re not behaving nearly as strangely as you think you are. I think you’re okay.”

“I don’t feel fine.”

“Well, have you ever been in love before?”

“No,” she said with a frown.

“Love makes you crazy. Or, it makes you feel like you’re going crazy. But since it does it to everyone, you’re in good company. You’ll have at least three years to cool off in, if you’re running hot right now.”

“The thought of that doesn’t make me happy at all.”

“He’s right that you could fall in love with someone else.”

“I doubt it.”

“That’s how it always feels.”

“And how would you know?”

“As a writer, I must be capable of understanding the vast depths of the human soul,” Dusty said.

“I think you have an inflated sense of what powers of understanding writing bulletins for the student paper has given you,” she said, but she smiled.

“I take great offense to learning that you consider my reporting on all aspects of student life to be inconsequential. You know, it’s a missed opportunity that I didn’t start a relationship advice column. I would have told everyone to just do what makes them happy.”

“Not particularly useful advice when you don’t know what that is.”

“Yes, but it’s the only advice that makes any sense,” he said with a grin. “What would I call my advice column?”

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe I could be the Love Doctor.”

Annerose laughed. “Sure, you could call yourself that.”

“Has your visit with the Love Doctor helped?”

“I suppose. Though I probably could have just written my thoughts down and come to no better of a conclusion.”

“Ah, you should write it down, and submit it as a reflective essay to a literary magazine.”

“I certainly will not.”

He grinned at her. “Someday, I’ll give up on getting you to write.”

“I live in hope that that day will come sooner, rather than later.”

They chatted for a little while longer about inconsequential things, which Annerose appreciated. It didn’t exactly take her mind off of things, but it was nice. Dusty was a pleasant conversationalist and a good friend, and she would miss him when he graduated. Perhaps she should make a graduation gift for him as well, though she had no idea what he would want.

When Annerose eventually returned to her room, she looked at the sketches and thread on her desk, and she resigned herself to her own folly. She got out a piece of nice fabric from her trunk and stretched it onto an embroidery hoop. It would be a larger piece, she decided, about the size of a large sheet of paper. More of a tapestry than anything else, which wasn’t her usual taste, since it served no purpose other than as decoration. The idea made her smile, though, as she recalled the first time they had spoken about her hobby.

As she sketched out the design onto her fabric with a fabric pencil, she added one element. Among the twisting briars in the background, she wrote, in small but legible font, “Not enough to be beautiful.”

She worked on the piece for several hours, even as her roommates returned and went to sleep, until her eyes grew blurry and she couldn’t keep the stitches straight.

* * *

_ December 798 U.C, Heinessen _

“Welcome back home,” Reinhard said when Annerose arrived at their apartment, luggage in tow. He hadn’t been able to pick her up at the airport, because he had been in school, and she had sternly told him that he would not skip class on her account.

“Is that you cooking?” she asked. “It smells delicious.”

“The least I could do was have dinner ready when you got back.”

“You’re so domestic.” She made her way into the kitchen and investigated the contents of the oven, which turned out to be a tray full of sausage and roast potatoes, which were just being kept warm. “I suppose I should be glad that you’ve become so proficient in my absence.” She stood up and looked at him. “And so tall. Every time I see you I feel like you’ve grown another inch.”

“Would you like me to stop growing?”

“Yes, please pile some bricks on your head, on my behalf.”

“As you wish,” Reinhard said with a smile. “How did your final exams go?” He washed his hands and began setting the kitchen table, two places. Annerose looked askance at that.

“Fine. Where’s mom?”

“Out.”

“Out?”

Reinhard shrugged. “She’s been feeling a bit better recently, so she’s been going to these society meetings on Monday nights.”

“What kind of society?”

“Some Phezzani fad. She saw it advertised on TV. Chanting and meditation to restore balance to the mind, or something.”

“You didn’t investigate?”

“I’m not her babysitter,” Reinhard said. “She’s certainly capable of going where she pleases. Besides, it’s probably good for her to make some friends and get out of the house. Healthy, you know.”

Annerose bit her lip. “I could say the same for you.”

“I’m sorry that I have no interest in chanting and meditation,” Reinhard said. “But it seems harmless, and she likes it, so I’m not worried.”

“I suppose I can trust your judgement.”

“You can make your own, since you’ll be here for the summer.”

“I’ll be pretty busy, you know.”

“With what?” Reinhard asked.

“I’ve been placed in an internship, starting tomorrow,” Annerose said. “I think I mentioned that I had applied for it a while ago.”

“Ah, I assumed nothing had come of it, since you didn’t bring it up again,” Reinhard said, putting on oven mitts and pulling the dinner out.

“Oh, the assignment just came through recently. I was just saving the news until I got home, in case you wanted to celebrate.”

“Of course, I’d love to,” Reinhard said. “Congratulations.” He smiled broadly at her. “What shall we do to celebrate?”

Annerose sat down at the table and opened up her luggage, pulling out a carefully wrapped bottle and holding it up. “Perhaps it’s lucky that our mother is not at home.”

“You would encourage me in underage drinking?” Reinhard asked. “What a scandal.”

“You can have one glass of wine,” Annerose said. “We won’t form any bad habits that way.”

Reinhard laughed. “I don’t believe we have any of the proper glasses.”

“I’m sure it tastes no different in a coffee mug than in a goblet.” She pulled open the drawer behind her and found the rarely-used bottle opener.

“Where’d you get that?” Reinhard asked. “I didn’t think you were the type to frequent the liquor store.”

“I’m a different woman now,” Annerose said. “I frequent whatever stores I like.” She was joking, of course, and Reinhard knew it. “No, Walter gave it to me, as a going away gift.”

“Hm,” Reinhard said. “How nice of him.” She noticed that he was carefully not looking at her as he said this.

“Is it?” Annerose asked, and the twist of her voice was unhappy, rather than joking, this time.

Reinhard sat down at the table. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Did he do something to you?”

“No, not at all.” Annerose didn’t meet his eyes.

“Then why are you looking like that.”

She took a moment to serve herself some of the potatoes and sausage and roasted onions, anything that would allow her to not say something immediately. As he waited for her to speak, Reinhard opened the bottle of wine and poured some into their cups.

“He’s going back into active service,” Annerose said. “That is all.”

“Hm.” Reinhard took a sip of his wine. It almost broke Annerose’s funk to see him scrunch up his face at the taste of it. She took a sip of her own and raised her eyebrows. “An acquired taste, it seems,” Reinhard said.

“Perhaps it’s for the best if you’re not so quick to acquire it,” she said with a smile.

“Perhaps,” he said. He took another sip, this time without flinching. “Is he going to be faithful to you when he’s away?”

Annerose dug her fingernails into her palm, but when she saw Reinhard looking, she placed her hand in her lap so that he wouldn’t see it. 

“You think he won’t be?” Reinhard asked.

“He made it clear that things were over between us,” Annerose said, as delicately as she could, looking away. “At least for now.”

“And yet he’s giving you parting gifts.” He raised his glass. “Does he mean to lead you on?”

“He’s not leading me on to anything,” Annerose protested. “I can’t stop him from doing what he likes while he’s away, and…”

“And?”

“It should have been clear to me that he was making no promises to me,” Annerose said.

“But it wasn’t?”

“It may surprise you to learn that I am capable of being young and foolish.”

“Did he take advantage of you?”

“Reinhard,” she said.

“Annerose.”

“He’s a good man,” she finally said. “It’s not taking advantage, if I don’t regret any of the time I spent with him. I’m just upset that he’s leaving. That’s really all.”

Reinhard crossed his arms. “You say things like you’re trying to disguise what really happened.”

“I don’t need to discuss the private details of my relationship with him,” Annerose said. “It’s not exactly your business.”

“It is if you’re getting hurt.”

“There are situations in which a person can be unhappy, with no one really at fault. I can’t blame him for graduating. It’s not as though I could freeze the passage of time.”

“He could stay faithful to you.”

“He wouldn’t make a promise like that,” Annerose said.

“Then I find it hard to believe that he is as good of a man as you say.”

“I don’t own him,” she said. “He’s a free man. And I would miss him, even if he had made some sort of promise to me. It’s probably less cruel to both of us if he says that it’s over.”

“So he’s going to do what he likes to do with women on the other side of the galaxy, and you’re going to, what?” Reinhard asked. “He’s let you be free in the wind?”

“If I like,” Annerose said, and turned her chin up in a stubborn expression. “He doesn’t own me, either.”

“But will you?”

“And what should it matter to you?”

“It seems to me,” Reinhard said, “that he has gotten you invested, where he doesn’t and hasn’t felt the same way. I would call that taking advantage, of your emotions, at least. I certainly would call it that if he expects you to come running back to him when you see him again.”

“I doubt he expects that.” Annerose took a couple bites of her food. “I don’t know why this upsets you so much.”

Reinhard frowned. “It seems cruel to you.”

“I think it would be crueler still to make a promise, and then decide to break it while we’re apart.” She looked at him with a calculating expression. “Certainly you aren’t going to remain alone for the rest of your life, no matter what promises you’ve made in the past.”

Reinhard’s expression darkened, and his hand found the locket underneath his shirt. “I most certainly will keep the promises that I made.”

“And you expect…” She paused a moment. It still made her somewhat uncomfortable to directly acknowledge the substance of Reinhard’s relationship with Kircheis. “He… will feel the same?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“Then, perhaps,” Reinhard said, his voice cutting, “you did not actually love Schenkopp at all. If you did, you would understand.”

Annerose raised an eyebrow. “And what don’t I understand about love, that my baby brother somehow does?”

“Kircheis is the other half of myself,” he said. “There will be no one else. That is what love is.”

“Then I will pray that you don’t say things with such passion, only to have to regret that passion in the future.”

“My mind is not easily changed.”

“I know. Nor are your eyes easily opened.”

Reinhard frowned. “I wish you could understand.”

“And I wish you could understand me,” she said. “But if love is the only thing we are never to agree on, then perhaps we should stop discussing it with each other at all.”

Reinhard shook his head. “I would prefer that we didn’t have to keep secrets.”

“Why? Because you want to know if you need to go out and gallantly duel on my behalf, if someone breaks my heart?”

Reinhard bit his finger, an odd habit of his that he did when his emotions were running high.

“I don’t need to keep secrets from you,” Annerose said, when he didn’t respond, “but I would like you to think me capable of making my own choices, even if they’re foolish choices. And if you can’t think that, then I can’t discuss it with you anymore. That’s all.”

“Clearly, I haven’t been able to stop you,” Reinhard said. “You didn’t used to be like this.”

“No?” She bit her lip. “Perhaps not.”

He looked down at his plate, silent.

Annerose sighed. “Maybe I do understand you better, now,” she said.

“In what way?”

She picked up her mug full of wine and swirled it around for a second. “In discovering how to be happy, I have found it much harder to be content.”

He looked up at her, their eyes meeting. “Is that a good thing?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She looked away.

“I think it must be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a great time writing Annerose, though I fear that she no longer bears very much resemblance to herself in the actual show, which maybe is an issue. I don't know. I do my best lol. I mean, if we take the ingredients that we know about her from the series (willing to do anything for Reinhard even at great personal cost, tragically Heterosexual [if we accept the premise that she's into Kircheis?], she did chuck a statue at that one guy's head to save Hilde's life so we know that she's willing to be fierce, stubborn [didn't want Reinhard interfering in her life after Kircheis died]) and we surgically remove her from the toxic context of the empire, put her in a position where she's more than just a pretty object, give her screentime, what comes out? Up to the author's interpretation, I suppose. But I think that her and Reinhard are cut from the same cloth (ie, fully capable of being Unhinged). I'm not only on team Let Annerose Be Happy, I'm also on team Let Annerose be Wild.
> 
> [Rational Annerose Brain: Sois sérieux.   
> Irrational Annerose Brain: Je suis farouche.]
> 
> I'm sorry if Annerose getting a ton of screentime is not what you came to this fic for lol. Reinhard will take the spotlight again soon (we'll have a timeskip of a few years). He's just still stuck in high school, which is not something I want to write about in the least.
> 
> What would Dusty Attenborough call his imaginary relationship advice column?
> 
> Compare and contrast the conversation that Annerose has with Reinhard in chapter 3 with the one she has at the end of this one.
> 
> Title is from the folk song Barbara Ellen (Barbry Allen). You can listen to a version of it here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9-YK798oU0
> 
> Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> thx to Lydia for the beta read. lydia was like "It's parallels that you have people drinking wine out of stupid cups" (because yang and reuenthal did that in part 1) and maybe it is, but only by virtue of me thinking that's an inherently hilarious thing to do. check out my original fiction @ bit.ly/arcadispark or bit.ly/shadowofheaven. I'm javert on tumblr and @natsinator on twitter. Feel free to chat with me in either of those places lol.


	8. Ain't No Cure for the Summertime Blues

_ December 789 U.C, Heinessen _

When Annerose woke up very early for her apprenticeship, she realized Reinhard was already up and awake, making coffee in the kitchen. 

“What are you doing up?” she asked, stumbling blearily around the dim room, lit only by the living room lamp.

“I wanted to see you off to your first day of work,” Reinhard said.

“You didn’t have to,” Annerose mumbled, making her way into the bathroom. When she came out dressed in her uniform a bit later, Reinhard had also made her some breakfast.

“You look good,” Reinhard said, appraising her in her uniform, even though she still had a towel wrapped around her head.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me in uniform before,” she replied. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Well, you’re a real professional now. It’s different.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that. I’m still just a cadet.”

“But you’ll be doing real work.”

“I somehow doubt that I will be doing anything too challenging or vital.”

“Still, better than being stuck here.”

Annerose looked up at him. He was washing off the cooking pan, his pyjama sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “You should eat before your breakfast gets cold. You don’t have to do the dishes right now.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said. 

“Is something the matter?”

“Nothing more than usual.”

“Well, if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Should I admit that I’m jealous of you?”

She laughed. “You’ll be where I am in three years. All you need is patience.”

“I’ve never had much of that.”

“It’s a good skill to develop.” Annerose poked at her eggs, then dipped her slice of toast in the yolk. “You’ll need it much more when you’re actually in the fleet than you will while you’re in high school.”

“I’m not sure why you say that.”

“Right now, you can do as you like,” Annerose pointed out gently. “There’s a certain privilege in being just another child. There’s no expectations, and thus no need to comply with people above you.”

“I feel as though I have to put up with quite a lot.”

“High school is not that bad.”

“It’s tedious.”

“But it may be more pleasant for you than taking orders from a superior. So, maybe do your best to learn to live patiently now, so it will be less of a grind on your patience later.”

“You have a low opinion of how I conduct myself.”

“No, I don’t,” she said. “I think you’ve done well, at least in terms of school, recently. Unless you have been in fights that I don’t know about.”

“No.”

“Then I have a fine opinion of your conduct. It’s your attitude that may be a problem. If you spend your time thinking about how frustrated you are, you’re only going to give yourself an ulcer.”

“And so what do you suggest? I join a meditation group like our mother has?”

Annerose laughed. “I think you’d have even less patience for meditation than you have for high school. I don’t know what I suggest. All I’m saying is that there’s no need to be jealous of me. In a few years, I’m sure you’ll outshine me by far.”

“Don’t say that.”

“And why shouldn’t I? It’s true, isn’t it?”

Reinhard frowned. “We should be equals. I know how capable you are.”

“We’ll see,” Annerose said. “In any event, eat your breakfast.”

He dried off the pan and sat down at the table, sipping his coffee. Annerose kept glancing at the time. “I should go soon if I want to catch my train.”

“Do you want me to escort you?”

“In your pyjamas? I don’t think so.” She stood and put her dishes in the sink. “Thank you again for breakfast, though, again, you didn’t have to. I’m perfectly capable of getting myself a bowl of cereal.”

“As you said, it’s not as though I have anything better to do with my time.”

Annerose ruffled his hair as she walked past him into the bathroom to brush her own hair. “You could sleep in. It’s good for your growth.”

“Hmph. I thought you told me you wanted me to stop getting taller.”

“Suit yourself, if you don’t want to sleep, then.” She pulled on her shoes. “I’ll probably be back late. No reason to make mom wait on me for dinner.”

“Alright.”

She gathered her keys and wallet, then paused with her hand on the door. “See you tonight,” she said.

“Good luck, though I doubt you’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” she said.

It was still very dark out when she walked to the train station, and the journey into Heinessenopolis was one where the scenery outside slowly illuminated with the rising of the sun. The train was crowded with all types of people commuting into the capital, and Annerose felt quite anonymous in her uniform, sitting in one of the ratty old seats and staring nervously out the window. She wished she had an embroidery project to work on, during the ride. Perhaps tomorrow she would set up a hoop small enough to fit inside the inner pocket of her uniform jacket. Something to fill her hands and calm her mind.

Her assignment was in the military affairs headquarters, which felt quite above her station, and she walked up the huge marble steps with some trepidation. Inside, there was a whole row of desks at which people went up and stated their business, if they were visitors, or passed directly through the security checkpoint into the main part of the building, if they were staff. Annerose went up to the desks.

“Hello,” she said. “I’ve been assigned here as part of the Student Officer Training Program. Would you be able to tell me where I need to report?”

The man at the desk nodded. “Name?”

“Annerose von Müsel.”

“And you’re reporting to?”

“Commander Cazerne.”

“Can I see your assignment letter and photo ID?”

Annerose handed both of those things over, and he compared her face to the one on her ID, then fed her ID into a slot on his desk. It disappeared momentarily, and there was a sound of whirring machinery. A few seconds later, he handed her back her original ID, and a new card. “That’s for entering this building only. If your CO decides you need further clearances, he will have to request them for you. If you lose it, report the loss immediately.”

“I understand.”

“Commander Cazerne’s office is on the fourth floor, hall A, room 27. The elevators are just past the security checkpoint. Do you have any questions?”

“No. Thank you very much.” And then Annerose was on her way, nervously passing through security with her new identification card, and then standing waiting for the elevator. The elevator dinged and opened, empty, and she got in. 

As the doors began to close, a man a little further down the hall said, “Would you mind holding that for me?”

Annerose stuck her arm in the door to stop it from closing, and the old man entered the elevator with her. “Much obliged,” he said.

“Not a problem, sir,” Annerose said, making note of his rank from the pin on his collar: commodore.

“It’s the summer already, is it?” he said, rubbing his chin and looking at her. “Seems to come earlier every year.”

“Yes, sir,” Annerose said, not sure if she was expected to answer that.

“I think you’re early,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I didn’t see any other cadets roaming the halls.”

“My train ride was shorter than I expected, sir,” Annerose said.

“Where’d you take the train in from?”

“Wrightsville.”

“That is a bit of a trip. My wife’s from Wrightsville,” he said. “Good people there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name, cadet?”

“Annerose von Müsel.”

“Von Müsel, eh?” The elevator made it to the fourth floor and the doors slid open. “After you,” he said. Annerose realized that he hadn’t pressed a floor button, so they must have been headed to the same place. 

She stepped out, then looked around for direction signage.

“Where are you headed?” the commodore asked.

“Commander Cazerne’s office, sir.”

He chuckled. “What a coincidence. I was just about to bother him myself. I’ll show you the way.”

“Thank you, sir,” Annerose said.

He gestured for her to follow him down the hallway, and she did, stepping beside him. “What school year are you in, Cadet von Müsel?” he asked.

“I’m going to be a sophomore, sir.”

“Oh, young. Good to get an early start. Shows promise, I’ve been told.”

“Thank you, sir.” She wasn’t sure what to say, but she didn’t want the conversation to become awkward, so she asked, “Did you participate in the student program when you were young, sir?”

He laughed at that. “I’m afraid not. I’m a rather uneducated man, you see. I didn’t attend the Officers’ Academy.”

Annerose immediately wished she had not stumbled her way into this minefield of a conversation topic. She didn’t know if he would appreciate a joke or compliment, so she settled on, “It must be valuable, to have a different perspective than what the academy provides.”

“That is incredibly tactful phrasing, cadet.” He smiled at her and stopped in front of one of the office doors. “Here we are.”

He rapped on the door, and from inside, a man called, “Come in.”

The commodore opened the door and entered. Annerose hesitated for a fraction of a second, then followed. The office was long and narrow, with a desk in front of a row of filing cabinets, and a hulking computer system in the back. Behind the desk, standing up and saluting, was a young man, probably not even thirty, with dirty blonde hair and glasses perched on the end of his nose.

The commodore and Annerose saluted back. “I brought you a gift, Commander Cazerne,” the commodore said.

“Is that my cadet you have, Commodore?”

“I believe so,” he said. “We had a fortuitous meeting in the elevator, since I was coming to ask you--”

“About the maintenance schedule?” Cazerne asked, looking somewhat annoyed. “I figured you would be here. Well, I have good news and bad news for you.”

“I just wanted to make sure it was still on your radar,” the commodore said. “I know other things have taken precedence.”

“I wouldn’t forget. I’m moving your battlegroup up through the queue as fast as I humanly can. But we only have so many available drydocks. The good news is that I was able to trade your spot with Rear Admiral Traung.”

“Oh, and what’s the bad news?”

“Hm, maybe you don’t want to know.”

“I did say you could trade anything that was reasonable.”

“He wanted your new Spartinians.”

The commodore sighed. “Of course he did. Well, there’s no use in Spartinians if my battleships are falling apart underneath me, so I’ll take it.”

“You’ll have to, because he won’t trade back. He certainly thinks he’s gotten the better end of the deal.”

“He’ll think that until it’s time to deploy while half his ships are still unmaintained,” the commodore said, rubbing his chin. “Thank you. I’m sure it was some trouble for you.”

“Not at all,” Cazerne said. “I know how to get things done.”

“Of course.” The commodore glanced at his watch. “I should run-- I have a meeting.” He turned to Annerose who had been standing stiffly, watching the exchange with a polite and neutral expression. “Cazerne’s a good man. I’m sure you’ll learn a lot from him.”

“Hey, you’re not supposed to say things like that while I’m in the room. She’ll think you’re trying to get favors out of me.”

The commodore laughed and headed out of the room. Cazerne sighed and sat back down at his desk. “Von Müsel, isn’t it?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Annerose said.

“Please, take a seat.” He waved at the chair on the other side of his desk, and Annerose sat stiffly. “Sorry about the rather odd introduction. You’ll have to get used to people coming in here at all hours demanding favors of me.”

“May I ask a question, sir?”

“Of course.”

“Who was that?”

Cazerne laughed. “Commodore Bucock. He’s with the fifth fleet. His battlegroup has ended up at the tail end of the maintenance queue for several deployments, and the fifth fleet is probably going out again soon. An untenable situation, so he asked me for some help with it, which I’m only too happy to provide.”

Annerose nodded, though she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes slightly at the story. Cazerne studied her. “And I see you want to ask another question.”

“I wouldn’t want to ask something offensively ignorant, sir,” Annerose said.

Cazerne’s lips twitched up in the hint of a smile. “Indeed, Cadet von Müsel, there may be no such thing as a stupid question, but there are some questions that are still better left unasked.” But then he broke into a real smile, and picked up some papers from his desk and shuffleed them into a stack. “But, of course, things that truly shouldn’t be asked about, Commodore Bucock and I probably would not be discussing right in front of you, no? So, feel free to ask.”

“Is there a reason that Commodore Bucock’s battlegroup was scheduled to be maintained last?”

“He has longstanding disagreements with some of the other senior members of the fifth fleet,” Cazerne said. “It’s unfortunate, but such things often end up influencing decisions both on and off the battlefield.”

“It seems unfair to the soldiers under his command, sir,” Annerose risked saying.

“Certainly. Though I should say that such things generally don’t matter. Usually there’s plenty of time between deployments for every ship to have its turn in drydock, and someone has to be last on the list, so those decisions are made on something resembling a whim. But this time, it’s a little more urgent, so I’m doing my best to shuffle.”

“And that’s… allowed, sir?”

“It’s my job,” Cazerne said. “And for this summer, it’ll be yours, too. If you’ll indulge me in an analogy for a moment, the military is rather like the body.” He held up his hands. “The right hand knows not what the left hand is doing, but the brain must tell them both what to do, and spend plenty of time thinking about that. The brain alone can’t do the work, and the heart and lungs have to make sure that the whole body gets plenty of oxygen. If the heart and lungs are working properly, the brain doesn’t have to waste energy thinking about breathing. When you work in logistics, that’s what your duty is: to make sure that nobody above you”-- he tapped his head-- “or below you”-- he held up his right hand-- “has to worry about where their next meal or coming from, or if they are going to have enough staff for their ships, which all need to be in the right place at the right time. Anyway, that is to say that, since people don’t like to think about it, I have the freedom to get results.”

“That seems like a lot of responsibility, sir.”

“And for responsibility, I’m sure you mean something else entirely, my very tactful cadet. This position requires a high level of trust. All positions in the military do, of course, but some are more vulnerable to exploitation than others. There’s little in the way of personal glory here in logistics, and there’s also a terrible temptation for self-enrichment.” He steepled his hands and looked at her. “And yet, the body could not survive without its heart and lungs, susceptible to invisible disease though they may be.”

“I see, sir.”

“I’m sure you do.” He looked at her. “I read your personal essay, by the way.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said. “I thought only the selection committee would.”

“After they narrow things down, they do let those of us participating in the program as teachers make the final choice. They strip all the names off, but we get to see your whole application aside from that.”

“Thank you for choosing me, then, sir.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. I’m going to work you to the bone.”

“I’m grateful for the opportunity, regardless.”

“Hah. Do you know why I chose you?”

“I wouldn’t presume, sir.”

“Well, your grades were excellent, and obviously you show potential for applying as a freshman, but I liked your essay about utility value. It was somewhat clinical, but sometimes being clinical is the most honest thing.”

She nodded. “I am glad that came across.”

“I can certainly put you to good use here,” he said. “You make me curious. But I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other before the summer’s out.”

“I look forward to it, sir.”

“Yes, well, you’re going to have to hit the ground running,” he said. “I’ve been taking cadets every summer for several years, and I forgot to take myself off the list this year until things were already too late. You’ve unfortunately come at a somewhat chaotic time in my life; my wife is very pregnant.”

“Congratulations, sir.”

“Thank you. Anyway, that just means that I need to get you up to speed on everything that you’ll be responsible for as quickly as possible, just in case I vanish without warning. The nice thing about an assignment like this is that I do get family leave, at least a little.” He woke up the computer on his desk. “Come over here-- let me walk you through a few things.”

* * *

Annerose was always exhausted when she returned from her internship in the evenings. Cazerne was a force of nature, in some respects, and he spent most of his time extremely busy. If he wasn’t at his computer working, he was attending meetings with his superiors and his subordinates, or going between people’s offices with his notebook in hand and Annerose at his heels, arranging the who, what, when, and where of supplying what felt like to Annerose the entire Alliance military. In reality, he was only in charge of coordinating resupply of fleets that had returned to Heinessen from campaign, which was an ever rotating group. 

“If you want to get to know the who’s who around here,” Cazerne had said to Annerose at one point, “you can hardly do better than being with me. Every fleet that passes into the Heinessen starzone needs to go through me for resupply, so I end up knowing almost everyone.”

She was quite impressed with his memory, his efficiency, and, as she got to know him better, his odd sense of humor. He was impressed by her work ethic, her ability to learn on the job, and, as he got to know her better, her flashes of insight and stubbornness. They worked quite well together. When Cazerne needed a task done, he only had to describe it once, and then Annerose would do it and mentally add it to her list of things that she was expected to do without prompting. She rarely made mistakes, and never made the same mistake twice. 

She loved the work, and often got so tied up in it that she lost track of time completely, and would miss her usual train back to Wrightsville. When that happened, she would send Reinhard a guilty text message.

> please don’t wait on me for dinner

> I’m working late again

But he would always wait for her anyway. The first time this had happened, she had felt bad, so she started assuaging her own guilt by picking up dessert from a bakery she passed on her way to the train station, and holding it in her lap on the journey home.

This Monday night was one of these occasions, and Annerose came back to their little apartment bearing a box full of fruit tarts, a desert she enjoyed quite a lot. Reinhard preferred cake, but the tarts had been on sale at the bakery, and Annerose could not resist something that appeared to be a better deal than the black forest cake that she had been otherwise considering.

When she got home, Annerose was surprised to find that dinner had not been made. Reinhard was usually on top of it, so when there was no smell of food in the apartment when she came in, her mind immediately went to the worst case scenario. The apartment was quiet, and the lights in the kitchen and living room were off. Annerose left her box of fruit tarts on the table.

“Reinhard, are you home?” she called.

A second later, he came out of their mother’s bedroom, scowling. “Welcome back,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t make dinner.”

“What’s the matter?” Annerose asked. “Is everything alright?” She looked around his shoulder to the dark bedroom he had emerged from.

“I’m fine,” Reinhard said. “But the charge card’s gone missing, so I couldn’t get groceries, so I couldn’t cook dinner.”

“Missing?” Annerose asked. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Missing.”

“You don’t have to be short with me. Things get misplaced.”

“I don’t misplace things.”

“I haven’t used the charge card in weeks,” Annerose said. “Not since we bought you that new shirt. Did it fall under the fridge?” They usually kept the charge card in a little holder on the side of the fridge.

“I know. I’m not blaming you.” The way he stressed ‘you’ made Annerose pause, though she was bending down and using her phone flashlight to look underneath the fridge, illuminating a few dust bunnies and pieces of pasta that had rolled under there.

“And so you were looking in mom’s room? Why would she take it? She never leaves the house.”

“She’s not in the house right now,” Reinhard pointed out. Annerose got off her hands and knees and washed her hands in the sink.

“If it’s gone, you can call the bank tomorrow and get a new one. If she has it, then she probably has a good reason for it.”

“Come look at this,” Reinhard said. Annerose followed him into their mother’s bedroom, where he flipped on the light.

Annerose didn’t go into her mother’s room very often, so at first she didn’t really notice anything amiss. She smiled at the sight of her embroidered bedspread, still in use, but that wasn’t what Reinhard was pointing out. On top of the dresser, there seemed to be a small shrine, candles arranged around a rock sitting on top of a large white piece of cloth, printed with some sort of slogan. Reinhard pulled open the top drawer to reveal that it was stuffed with books and pamphlets, most of which were studded with little pieces of paper covered in Caribelle’s spidery handwriting. 

“I’m sure the card isn’t in there, Reinhard,” Annerose said. “We shouldn’t be going through her stuff.”

“Look at all this, though.”

“You were the one who said it was harmless.”

“It’s harmless until she’s spending our food and rent money on rocks,” he said.

“One rock. Come on, leave it. If you need money, I have some. We can order takeout.”

Reinhard frowned, but closed the drawer, and the two of them left the room. Annerose sat down at the kitchen table and called in an order to a restaurant down the street. She handed Reinhard her personal charge card and told him to go pick it up, figuring that getting him out of the house would let him stop stewing for a minute. She loved him, and empathized with his anger, but his tetchy behavior was going to annoy her until she got him to cheer up. 

A few minutes after he left, the door to their apartment opened. Annerose looked up, expecting it to be Reinhard, but it was her mother.

“Oh, Annerose, glad you made it home. How was work?” Caribelle asked, smiling at Annerose as she took off her shoes.

“It was fine, mama.” Annerose considered how to broach the topic of the missing charge card. “Did you eat dinner?”

“I had some at the meeting. You weren’t waiting for me, were you?”

“No, I sent Reinhard out to get takeout.”

“Are you celebrating something?”

“No, he just didn’t grocery shop, so there isn’t any food in the house.”

“Oh, okay.”

“He couldn’t find the charge card,” Annerose said.

Caribelle paused in what she was doing, getting a drink of water from the sink. “It’s in my purse.”

“I’m glad it’s not lost,” Annerose said, keeping her voice mild. “What did you need it for?”

“I was getting you a birthday gift.”

Annerose laughed. “Oh, mama, you really didn’t have to.”

“You’re my daughter, of course I have to.” Caribelle smiled. “Birthday and New Year’s. It’s a shame that they’re one and the same for you.”

“It makes it easy to remember how old I am. I’m glad that’s all you needed the card for, though. Reinhard was worried.”

“What was he worried about?”

“You know how he likes to be in control of the finances,” Annerose said.

“I am his mother.”

“But he does all the grocery shopping. I guess just tell him if you’re using it, next time.”

“Now I’m being scolded by my daughter, as well,” Caribelle said. “What has the world come to?”

“I’m not trying to scold, mama. I just don’t want Reinhard to be upset with you.”

“I know,” Caribelle said. “Thank you for saving me from his wrath.”

“He wouldn’t yell at you, just be snippy.”

“I have a headache, so even snippiness might be a little much at the moment,” Caribelle said. She opened one of the cupboards and pulled out the pain medicine, taking a few pills with her water.

“You should go lay down, then. Don’t let your society meetings tire you out too much.”

“Oh, they’re wonderful. My headache was way worse earlier.”

“If you say so.”

“Goodnight, Annerose,” Caribelle said, heading into her bedroom. 

“Night, mama.”

Reinhard returned a few minutes later, bearing the takeout meal. Annerose’s stomach growled loudly when he placed it down on the table and handed her her own card back. “Thanks for getting it. Mom came back, by the way.”

“Oh?” Reinhard’s voice was cautious.

“She said she was buying me a birthday present.”

Reinhard’s whole manner changed, and he smiled. “Of course. That’s fine, then.”

“Don’t you buy me anything,” she said. “I swear. I am not worth spending money on.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Beg all you want, that doesn’t change the fact that rent money is rent money. I’m the only one who has discretionary funds around here, so I’m the only one who’s allowed to buy other people gifts.”

“That seems terribly unfair,” Reinhard said. “You work hard, only to give things to us ingrates.”

“That’s my job,” Annerose said. She tugged on Reinhard’s hair and he smiled. “Consider tonight’s dinner my birthday present from you.”

“I don’t see how I can possibly do so, but I’ll try, for your sake.”

“You can consider that the dessert is one that I picked for myself, rather than for you.”

He laughed. “Alright. If that’s how you want to justify it.”

“I do.”

“I’ll cook something nice tomorrow.” He glanced over at the fridge, where the charge card was supposed to be. Annerose’s eyes narrowed; despite the whole conversation, their mother had walked into her bedroom, carrying her purse and the charge card, and her door was now firmly shut.

* * *

_ February 790 U.C., Heinessen _

Annerose looked over at Reinhard and sighed. “I thought I told you to stop growing. That jacket barely fits.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’ll last one more wearing.”

“I suppose it looks fine. I don’t think Commander Cazerne has much of an eye for fashion. Though his wife might.” She frowned a little. “Your hair situation is untenable. Sit down and let me fix it for you.”

“It’s fine,” Reinhard said, but he sat down in the kitchen chair anyway, and Annerose retrieved her brush and hair ties from the bathroom. She brushed and braided his wild mane of blonde hair in a fashion she occasionally had used on her own, back when her hair was long enough to braid. Though her hair was down by her ears, at this point, it was nowhere near as long as Reinhard’s was, and she was somewhat jealous.

“That looks better, doesn’t it?” Annerose asked when she finished. Reinhard, who had been silent and relaxed while she worked, ran his hand over the braids.

“It’s more contained, anyway,” he said. “Are you afraid that I’ll make a bad impression on your boss?”

“No,” Annerose said. “But there’s no point in appearing scruffy, either.”

“Got your gift?”

“Of course I do,” Annerose said. She picked up the wrapped package off the kitchen table, feeling its contents slide around inside the paper. That was the trouble with wrapping fabric, she supposed. “There’s still a little time before the train, but I guess we can get going.” 

She walked towards their mother’s room to say goodbye, but Reinhard said, “She’s asleep; don’t bother.”

“Do I look okay?”

“Yes,” Reinhard said. “Though your boss might not recognize you out of uniform,” he joked.

Annerose laughed and grabbed her keys. “I’m tired of wearing the uniform. It’s nice to have an occasion to dress up. Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

They walked out of the apartment together, into the muggy afternoon air. Annerose had grown used to the atmosphere of Wrightsville over the years, so she found even the odd smell drifting up from the river perhaps not pleasant, but comforting and familiar. The sky was painfully blue, and the sinking sun dazzled on the grimy factory and apartment windows. 

They were taking the train to Cazerne’s house in the suburbs outside Heinessopolis, so it was a longer ride than usual, and Annerose looked at the new scenery out the train windows with some fascination. She had brought a small embroidery project to work on in her purse, as she usually did, but she didn’t take it out on the journey. Reinhard spent the whole time typing out something furiously on his phone. Annerose could only assume it was another post on his blog.

They made it to Cazerne’s house, a neat little white building in a whole square full of identical white buildings, officer housing, by time the sun was just touching the tops of the trees a furious red. Annerose rang the doorbell, Reinhard standing stiffly behind her shoulder.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing a brightly smiling and sprightly blonde woman, about the same height as Annerose. She was hugely pregnant, so much so that Annerose wondered how she could still walk, let alone lean forward on her toes charmingly as she said, “You must be the wonderful Ms. von Müsel!”

“I said I would get the door!” Cazerne’s voice sounded from inside, before Annerose could even say anything in response. 

“You weren’t fast enough, dear,” Mrs. Cazerne said, turning to look at her husband, who had appeared behind her shoulder.

Annerose smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cazerne. This is my brother, Reinhard.”

“Please, just Hortense,” she said with a smile. “I’m so glad to meet you both. Come in, though, let’s not have you standing in my doorway.”

There was a bit of a traffic jam in the entryway as everyone tried to squeeze in, primarily caused by Cazerne not moving out of the way of his wife fast enough.

“This is for you,” Annerose said. “As a thank you for your hospitality.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Hortence said as Annerose pressed her wrapped package into her hands. “Should I open this now?”

Annerose glanced at Cazerne, who was shaking hands with Reinhard and not paying any attention to what Annerose and his wife were saying. “If you like,” Annerose said. She had no idea what the custom for gifts was, and she didn’t want to make a misstep.

Hortence smiled at her warmly, then delicately unwrapped the package, revealing an embroidered baby blanket in shades of peacock greens and blues, decorated with a motif of little figures dancing in a ring, underneath a sky studded with starry constellations. It was quilted, made up of little squares, each with a figure or constellation or decorative motif on it. Making each of the little squares had been her train ride entertainment for the summer thus far. Hortence gasped and held it up. “You made this?” Annerose nodded. “I’m so sorry, I realize I don’t even know your first name to thank you properly.”

“Annerose,” she said, blushing at the thanks.

“This is beautiful, Annerose,” Hortence said. “You shouldn’t have.”

“What’s all this fuss?” Cazerne asked, apparently done talking to Reinhard.

“Look what your cadet made for the baby,” Hortense said, holding up the blanket. “Always going on and on about Cadet von Müsel this, Cadet von Müsel that, and you never once told me she was an artist. Shame on you.”

Annerose averted her eyes, very embarrassed by the attention. “It’s really nothing,” Annerose said. “But I’m glad you like it.”

“‘Nothing’, she says.” Hortence shook her head. “How about we come into the dining room. I made dinner.”

“Let me see what you made,” Cazerne said. Hortense handed him the blanket as she walked out, leading them into the dining room. “Excellent work, von Müsel. Good quality construction, flame retardant fabric, regulation sizing, not a thread out of place.” He was joking, of course.

“I’m glad it meets your standards, sir,” Annerose said with a smile.

“Hmph, a supply officer to the last. Can’t appreciate the finer things in life,” Hortense said, vanishing into the kitchen. “It’s a wonder I married him.”

“Please, take a seat,” Cazerne said, gesturing to the set table. “Was the train ride in difficult?”

“No, not at all,” Annerose said. “Barely longer than my usual commute.”

“That’s good, that’s good.”

Hortense emerged from the kitchen, bearing a tray of food, which she set down on the table. “Do you want any help?” Annerose asked. 

“No, no, I’ve got it,” she said. “You are sweet, though.”

“No alcohol, today, I’m afraid,” Cazerne said. He nodded at Reinhard. “Since you’re underage, and Hortense isn’t supposed to drink.”

“That’s fine, sir,” Annerose said. “How much longer is it going to be until the baby’s born?”

“I’m thirty-eight weeks, now,” Hortense said as she brought in the drinks and remainder of the food. “But if I make it all the way to forty, I’ll consider it a miracle. Though, on the other hand, it might be a blessing if it comes early.”

“I continue to hope that she’ll make it to the end of the summer, so I don’t risk abandoning you,” Cazerne said.

“Don’t worry on my behalf,” Annerose said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“It would be a terrible end to your summer,” he said. 

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Reinhard asked.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Hortense said as she served the food. “If it’s a boy, we’ll call him John, after Alex’s father, and if it’s a girl, Charlotte, after my mother.”

“Those are good names,” Reinhard said. “And thank you for dinner, this looks delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” Hortense said with a smile. Reinhard had his most charming expression on, which Annerose appreciated.

“It’s good to have names picked out already,” Annerose said.

“Did you think that we would leave that up to the last minute?” Cazerne asked. “If you did, you clearly don’t know me very well.”

“Not learning if it was going to be a boy or girl is the only spontaneity I could introduce into the equation,” Hortense said.

“That, and not being able to schedule when it will happen,” Cazerne said. “It’s a very messy business.”

“It will be over soon enough, dear,” Hortense said. “Besides, it’s just like you to plan everything out and then not have to do any of the work yourself.” 

He laughed at that. “Perhaps it is.”

“But enough about that,” Hortense said. “I feel like I’ve been hearing so much about you two over the summer that I already know you.”

“You’ve been hearing about me?” Reinhard asked, surprised. “Only the good parts, I hope.”

“My husband comes home every night and tells me an exhaustive list of everything that happened in his day, which by necessity involves everything that happened in yours,” she said, nodding at Annerose. “‘Cadet von Müsel did an excellent job with the requisition for new kitchen equipment on the Saratoga’, ‘Cadet von Müsel salvaged the huge vendor mishap with the furniture order’, ‘Cadet von Müsel put together an excellent proposal for the Rio Grande-Class radio upgrades’, ‘Cadet von Müsel solved the mystery of the missing munitions’, et cetera.”

“Well, I try,” Annerose said.

“Anyway, I also know that you eat lunch together, and he tells me, ‘You know, Cadet von Müsel told me the most amusing anecdote about her brother learning how to light a campfire’, or ‘Cadet von Müsel told me about how her brother’s writing was cited in the Thernusen Times economics section’. All very interesting things, which painted quite a picture in my mind. I had assumed you were her older brother, though.”

“I’m glad to hear that only positive reports made it through,” Reinhard said. “There are worse things in the world than being thought of as older than I am.”

“Are the two of you twins?” Hortense asked. “You look almost identical.”

Annerose laughed. “No, Reinhard is five years younger than I am.”

“Five years!” Even Cazerne seemed shocked by this. “I read some of your writing. I hope you don’t take offense to me saying it’s not exactly what I would have expected from a fourteen year old.”

“None taken at all,” Reinhard said, though he looked askance at Annerose.

“Am I not allowed to tell everyone how wonderful you are?” Annerose asked.

Reinhard smiled a little. “I suppose you all understand that there’s a reason I don’t keep my writing attached to my real name.”

“Certainly.” Cazerne studied him. “Though it might be to your benefit, if you did.”

“It’s really just a way to pass the time,” Reinhard said. “I don’t plan to make a name for myself as an economist.”

“You’d do well at it.”

“Reinhard also wants to join the fleet,” Annerose said. “Perhaps in three years you can have him as your intern.”

“That might smack a little too much of favoritism,” Cazerne said. “It’s a shame, because you’ve truly spoiled me to other interns in the future. I’ve never had one as good as you, and I doubt I will again. But I can’t even request you back a second time.”

“I’m glad to hear that you would want me back,” Annerose said. “And I’m disappointed that it’s not to be.”

“It will be good to get experience somewhere else,” Hortense said. “The whole point is to broaden your horizons, isn’t it?”

“I believe that the point is to make professional connections,” Cazerne said. “Which I think you’ve succeeded at.” He paused for a moment to eat some of his dinner. “Where would you like to end up, next summer?” he asked Annerose. “I can probably arrange you to go wherever you like.”

“I’m happy with anything,” Annerose said. “Though since you said that I’ve already succeeded at the goals for the internship, perhaps I should let someone else take my spot next year.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cazerne said. “Would you like to be on a ship? Those are sought after positions. I can probably arrange that.”

“I wouldn’t be able to live at home,” Annerose said, glancing at Reinhard.

“And you’re not at home most of the year anyway, so it hardly makes a difference,” Reinhard said, trying not to appear possessive. “Take the best position you can get.”

“No need to be hasty,” Hortense said. “I can understand wanting to be home with your family over the summer. Take some time to think about it.”

Annerose smiled at her. “I will,” she said.

“Regardless of what you’re doing over the next few summers, when you graduate, I’m going to put in a request for you to join my staff. It’s easier to move real soldiers where I need them to go than it is to move students.”

“So, you are using your position for personal enrichment, after all,” Annerose said with a smile.

Cazerne laughed. “It’s for the benefit of the entire Fleet that I have subordinates that can be relied upon. I’d hardly call that personal enrichment.”

“You’ll have to get in line,” Reinhard said idly. “It seems like everyone who meets Annerose wants her to join their staff.”

“Oh, really? Who’s made you another offer?”

Annerose flushed. “My boyfriend told me that I should go join his unit when I graduate.”

“Now, it’s funny,” Hortense said. “I’ve heard day and night about you and your brother, but never once about your boyfriend.”

She was uncomfortable with this line of conversation but kept her face pleasant. Reinhard smiled, clearly feeling as though he was winning. She wished he hadn’t brought up the subject. “He was a senior this year,” Annerose said. “Walter von Schenkopp. He’s in the Rosen Ritter now.”

“I find it hard to picture you swinging an axe around,” Hortense said.

“Actually, she’s quite good at it,” Reinhard admitted. It was not quite grudging, the tone in his voice. As usual, Annerose didn’t know if she wanted to hit him or hug him. He was convinced that she was the most wonderful creature in the universe, completely faultless and also perfect at everything that she did, but he had no desire for her to join Schenkopp in the Rosen Ritter.

“I keep forgetting you’re a former imperial. How old were you when you came here?” Cazerne asked.

“I was fifteen,” Annerose said.

“That must have been a big adjustment,” Hortense said. “Do you like it here?”

“Oh, yes. Very much so.” She paused and took a sip of her drink. “It’s very different, but… I think I’m happier here than I ever would have been in the Empire. Personal happiness isn’t everything, of course, but I’m very grateful to the Alliance for providing me a chance to have it, regardless.”

All three of the other people looked at her with different expressions. Cazerne seemed to be visibly changing his opinion on her, different gears slipping into place in his brain. Hortense had an expression of concern and pity on her face, especially when she saw Reinhard’s intense and protective posture.

“And you, Reinhard?” Cazerne asked. “Are you glad to be here?”

“I’m glad for Annerose’s sake,” he said. “And the Empire is rotten to the core, so I’m glad for that reason, as well.”

“But there are reasons you’re not glad?”

“I left more behind than Annerose did,” Reinhard said. His hand went to the locket under his shirt. “But I don’t want to go back, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It would be rude of me to insinuate as much,” Cazerne said. “I’m always just curious about former imperials. The Rosen Ritter is an odd group.”

“I know,” Annerose said. “I expressed the same sentiment when Schenkopp said that was where he was headed. But he said he would fit in there better than he would anywhere else, and I have no reason to mistrust that.”

“And where do you anticipate that you’ll fit best?”

“I don’t know,” Annerose said. “I told you once that I simply want to be useful. Wherever I could be of most use is where I want to go.”

“I find it hard to believe that that could be on the front lines wielding an axe,” Hortense said. “So I hope that my husband is able to snag you up.”

“I have no idea what the future will look like,” Annerose said. “Or what I’ll want in a few years when I graduate. It’s impossible to predict, and even less possible for me to control.”

“That’s true,” Cazerne said. “Maybe it’s one of those things that’s not worth worrying about over dinner.”

They spoke of less fraught topics, then, with Cazerne asking Reinhard about how he had developed his interest in economics. Reinhard told him that it was less of an interest in economics than it was in figuring out the way the world worked. Annerose knew that was a simplification at best, but Cazerne accepted it. When Reinhard asked about the process the fleet went through for choosing vendors and budgeting, Cazerne was all too happy to speak at length.

“If you want to do what I do,” Cazerne said at one point, “you should join the engineering program at the academy. It tends to produce students with a broader perspective than those in the administrative track. I wrote a thesis on systems engineering that gave me a foot in the door. Was hoping to do a doctoral program at some point, but then I realized that I enjoyed real work more than I enjoyed academia, so I didn’t end up going back.”

“I understand,” Annerose said. “I haven’t declared my track yet.”

“You have to before the next school year starts, don’t you?”

Annerose nodded. “I was thinking of going into the administrative track, but--”

“You’re at the top of your class,” Reinhard said. “Tell her that she should take advantage of that and go into the strategy department.”

“You have an interest in strategy?” Cazerne asked.

“I don’t know,” Annerose said. “I have an interest in going where I can make most use of myself.”

Hortense sighed. “Incorrigible, the lot of you. Go with strategy if you want to look valuable, go with engineering if you want to learn things, and go with administration if you want to go where every other woman student goes. No reason to make a fuss about it.”

This caused Cazerne and Reinhard to start arguing amicably for the merits of their preferred choices, while Hortense and Annerose glanced at each other with amusement. “Boys,” Hortense mouthed, and Annerose smiled. 

After dinner, Reinhard and Cazerne went together into the living room, Cazerne setting up a chess game. Annerose stayed behind in the dining room to help Hortense clear up.

“I really can’t thank you enough for your gift, Annerose,” Hortense said, picking up plates as Annerose gathered the glasses.

“I’m glad you like it. I always have a project going, and I just worked on it during my train ride, so it really was no extra effort at all. I hope the baby approves.”

“You don’t know how valuable you’ve been to my husband this summer.” She put some dishes in the dishwasher. “He might seem very busy to you right now, but you’ve picked up so much of his workload, it’s unbelievable. Really has taken a load off my mind, with everything else going on, to have him able to spare a few seconds and relax every once in a while.”

“I’m glad I could be helpful.”

“Do you actually want to go to the front lines?” Hortense asked. “You seem like you do.”

“Am I that obvious?” Annerose asked. “I don’t know. It’s not the front lines that are appealing to me.”

“Love does make us do crazy things,” Hortense said.

“There are a lot of factors at play,” Annerose said. “Reinhard is ambitious. I want to be ambitious for his sake.”

“It’s nice that you want to look out for your brother. He seems…” Hortense trailed off, glancing behind her through the doorway into the living room, where Reinhard was biting his finger as he considered his next move in the chess game. “Well, there’s nothing I could say that would be anything other than a first impression.”

“You like him, though?”

“Oh, yes,” Hortense said. “Maybe against my better judgement.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s quite charming,” she said. “I’m always suspicious of people who are.”

“He’s on his best behavior right now,” Annerose said with a smile. “He still has all the usual flaws of fourteen year old boys.”

“Does he?” She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel. “He seems both mature and intense. And maybe too pretty for his own good.”

“It’s better for him to be too pretty than it is for me,” Annerose said, though she regretted it immediately when Hortense stopped what she was doing and turned to her, voice very low, and laid her hand on Annerose’s arm.

“Did something happen to you, Annerose? At work? Or school?”

“No,” Annerose said, and smiled at her gratefully. “I was just thinking of something that happened a long time ago, when I was Reinhard’s age.” When Hortense’s fingers tightened on her arm slightly, Annerose said, “But nothing really happened; please, don’t worry.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. You could hear the story, one day, but it’s not really pleasant after dinner talk. I don’t want to upset you.”

“As long as you’re alright.”

“I am. But I really appreciate--” 

Hortense nodded. “If anything ever does happen, you come to me, okay?”

“Thank you,” Annerose said. She smiled a little. Although she had been feeling fine before, this momentary change in the conversation had left her off balance. She wished she hadn’t made her comment, but she had felt so at home with the Cazernes, it had just come out. She glanced through the doorway at Reinhard, making a move in the chess game. He really did look like her, several years ago, especially with his hair done like it was. They even shared some of the same mannerisms from spending all their time together-- they moved in the same ways. She watched him, and thought about how someone else had watched her and decided she was an object for the taking. It repulsed her now, much more than it had then. She remembered feeling terrified out of her wits, when her father had told her the news, but she had been ready to accept it. Looking at Reinhard, a child, she felt sick to her stomach. The same thing wouldn’t happen to him, of course, but imagining it was enough.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hortense asked, seeing the change on Annerose’s face.

“He really does look just like I did, when we escaped Odin,” she said, then turned away, putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and signalling an end to the line of questioning. Hortense nodded.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“I would love some, thank you.”

They stayed for a while longer at the Cazernes’ house, having an enjoyable evening. Cazerne won the first game of chess against Reinhard, and then Reinhard had demanded a rematch, which he then won. Annerose knew that he was making a good impression on her boss, because Cazerne said as much when Reinhard stepped out for a moment. 

“It’s rare to see so much talent in one family,” Cazerne said. “I’m glad that you and your brother both seem to be willing to put it to good use.”

“I’ll say that he wishes he could be putting it to use now. He hates being bored.”

“Is he bored tonight? I’ve been told that I’m quite dry company.”

“Who told you that?” Annerose asked. “I think the evening has been lovely.”

“I believe it was my superior officer, several years ago,” Cazerne said with a smile. “I don’t think we understood each other at all.”

“You have a unique sense of humor, dear,” Hortense said. She turned towards Annerose. “I’m glad you get along with him. Two summers ago, he called me up every night telling me how much he hoped his cadet would encounter grave misfortune on his ride home.”

“I don’t think I ever said any such thing,” Cazerne protested.

“I can’t believe your excellent memory is failing you.”

“Maybe I’ve blocked the incident out of my mind.”

At the end of the night, Cazerne offered to drive Reinhard and Annerose back to the train station, so that they wouldn’t have to walk in the dark. When they pulled up outside of it, Annerose said, “Thank you again for having us over for dinner, sir. I had a wonderful time.”

“You should really thank Hortense. She wanted to meet you.”

“I am glad that I got the opportunity.”

“And it was good to meet you, Reinhard. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to keep doing well in school so you can attend the academy.”

“You don’t have to remind me, but I appreciate it anyway,” Reinhard said, shaking Cazerne’s hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around again at some point,” Cazerne said. “Cadet von Müsel, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“As always, sir.”

* * *

On the Wednesday of the last week of her internship, Annerose showed up to Commander Cazerne’s office, knocked on the door as she usually did, and got no response. Figuring he might be out getting himself a cup of coffee, she then unlocked the door with her own key. The office was dark and empty, and Annerose knew immediately that Cazerne had not come in yet this morning. That meant he was either running late, or, more likely, since she had never seen him late to anything, his wife was busy giving birth.

This was, to say the least, inconvenient. He was supposed to have a meeting at ten with the general admiralty of the sixth fleet, to go over, well, basically everything that they would need for their upcoming deployment. Cazerne had prepared Lieutenant Kratow to run the meeting in his absence, in an emergency, but when Annerose went down the hall to Kratow’s office to find him, he was gone. It was a bit of a conundrum. Annerose didn’t have the ability to order anyone else to give the presentation, and besides, nobody else knew anything about it. Annerose had been the one to put together the slide deck, so she was well versed in what the meeting would cover. She sent a message to Cazerne, asking what she should do, but she received no response, which didn’t surprise her.

Annerose was not the type to panic, nor was she the type to shirk responsibility. So, she took a deep breath, and then began preparing her materials to give the presentation. As she was doing this, Cazerne’s desk phone rang. She answered it.

“Hello, this is Cadet von Müsel,” she said. “Commander Cazerne isn’t here right now. Can I take a message?”

“Oh, von Müsel, thank goodness you’re there. I’ve been trying to get in touch with anyone all morning.” This was Lt. Kratow.

“I think Commander Cazerne’s wife is having her baby,” Annerose said. “Where are you, though?”

“When I got in this morning, I had a message waiting for me that-- you know that company we contracted to fill the emergency order of medical supplies for Rear Admiral Traung?”

“Yeah, Chiraq Medical, or something, wasn’t it?”

“That’s the one. They’ve got their shipping trucks sitting down at the airfield, but they’re refusing to let us unload. Claim they haven’t been paid. I’m down there with them now, and I just talked to the guy in charge-- Michael, uh, Spier, and he says that he was supposed to get a payment this morning for the delivery, but it hasn’t come through.”

Annerose bit her lip. “Those need to be on board by the end of the day, right?”

“They should have been on board yesterday, but it got delayed. Traung is leaving at four, supplies or no supplies.”

“Gods above,” Annerose said. “Okay. I’ll investigate what’s going on with the money. Can you at least make sure that they don’t leave?”

“Who, Traung?” 

“No, the supply people. I don’t think you could stop Traung from leaving even if you blockaded the entrance to his ship.”

“I’ll do my best. Any idea when you will have an update for me on the money?”

“It won’t be until after eleven, at least. I have to give that presentation to the sixth--”

“Jesus, I forgot all about that! I was supposed to handle it if --”

“It’s fine,” Annerose lied. “I’ve got it under control. You won’t get back from the airfield in time to deal with it. I can do the meeting.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“I could tell someone else to do it.”

“Nobody else even knows the presentation. It’s better if I just do it,” Annerose said.

“If you say so.” The cringe in Kratow’s voice was audible. “Ugh, I’ve gotta go, the supply people are calling me again. Let me know as soon as you have any information about the money.”

“I will,” Annerose said. “Please don’t let them leave.”

“I won’t. Good luck with the sixth fleet,” Kratow said, then hung up before Annerose could even respond. 

This day was quickly headed into nightmarish territory. Annerose had been through a lot worse in her twenty years of life than just organizational chaos, though, so she finished preparing for the meeting, then spent about a half hour trying to solve the money mystery. She hadn’t made much headway before she had to go run the sixth fleet’s meeting, but she put the issue out of her mind and focused.

She arrived at the meeting room early, so that she could set up and prepare herself, which meant unfortunately that every person entered, took a look at her student uniform, and then ignored her. The conference room, which had a long table with about fifteen seats, eventually filled up with high ranking members of the sixth fleet, talking among themselves. Annerose pulled up the beginning slides of the presentation on the display, then waited quietly near the front of the room until the time was exactly ten o’clock. Everyone was completely ignoring her, though she heard Admiral Lobos asking the man sitting next to him when Cazerne was going to show up.

Annerose took a deep breath and addressed the room. “Excuse me, sirs,” she said, trying to project confidence and politeness in her tone. “It’s ten o’clock, so if you like, we can get started.”

There was a general sound of confusion from the room. She had at least succeeded in getting everyone’s attention. Vice Admiral Moore spoke up. “I was given the impression that Commander Cazerne was going to be running this meeting.”

“Commander Cazerne’s wife is having her baby, sir,” Annerose said, which was speculation on her part, but it was the most reasonable explanation. “His alternate, Lieutenant Kratow is dealing with an emergent situation regarding the fifth fleet’s deployment, so I am prepared to give the presentation in their absence.”

“And you are?”

“Cadet von Müsel, sir,” Annerose said. “I’ve been working under Commander Cazerne as part of the Student Officer Training Program this summer.”

Admiral Lobos looked around with a resigned expression. “Should we call this a wash and reschedule? I have things that need to be discussed with Cazerne.”

“I don’t want to waste any more of my time than absolutely necessary,” Moore said. “Cadet, when is Cazerne going to be back?”

“I couldn’t say, sir. I believe he was intending to use some of his family leave, but I don’t think he was able to schedule it in advance.”

“Great.” Moore frowned. “When did you want to reschedule to?” he asked Lobos. “Because if it’s going to be more than a couple weeks, that will be a problem.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind me saying, I believe that Commander Cazerne would prefer if you kept to the original schedule, so that the procurement process can get underway as quickly as possible,” Annerose said. “I am happy to run the meeting, and to pass on anything you have for Commander Cazerne.”

“I don’t really give a damn what Cazerne, who isn’t here, prefers,” Moore said.

“Vice Admiral, you could be more polite when a lady is in the room,” Commodore Chen said from down at the end of the table. “We’re all already here. I don’t see the point in clearing some nebulous future date in our schedules if we can just get this over with.”

There was general agreement with Chen from the other staff assembled at the table. Lobos looked at Annerose, somewhat dismissively, and said, “Cadet, be honest, because if you don’t, you’re wasting all of our time: do you actually have the ability to conduct this meeting?”

“Yes, sir,” Annerose said. 

Lobos narrowed his eyes, then glanced around the table. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

Annerose smiled. “Thank you, sir.” She turned and glanced at the slide displayed behind her. “There are three main topics that we need to cover here: routine resupply and maintenance before your next deployment, test equipment installation and experimental upgrades, and emergent needs. We’ll cover the routine things fairly quickly so as not to waste time…”

Annerose kept herself calm, pleasant, and professional through the whole meeting, running through the slide deck without incident. By the end of it, everyone seemed to have forgotten that she was not Commander Cazerne, and they asked her a wide variety of different questions, most of which Annerose was able to answer quickly and to their satisfaction. They also made a huge variety of demands, all of which she wrote down for Cazerne to deal with, and tried to assuage their concerns. She was already making a mental list of how she would go about dealing with all the issues the admirals were bringing up, but then she remembered that she was going to be leaving in two days, so she sadly started tacking on to her answers, “Commander Cazerne will handle that by…” 

She tried to hustle the meeting along, glancing up at the time occasionally, since even beyond this meeting, she still had to solve the money problem that Kratow was out mitigating. 

At the end of the meeting, as everyone was filing out and Annerose was shutting down the display, Lobos said, “Decent job, cadet.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied. He left without saying anything else, which wasn’t that surprising. She hadn’t expected anything, so she tried not to let her ego get out of control with any recognition at all. 

She didn’t have time to dwell on it, which was enough of a damper of ego as anything, and she put on her most resolute expression and marched her way all the way downstairs, into the sub-basements of the building, to where the accounting offices were. There, she spent a very miserable time going from desk to desk, trying to figure out where the money had gone, each time trying to convince the person she was speaking to that yes, she was responsible for doing this on Commander Cazerne’s behalf; and yes, it was an emergency; and yes, she needed THAT much money; and yes, she could put them on the phone with Lieutenant Kratow, but that wouldn’t do them any good whatsoever; and yes, she had already checked the disbursement boards to see if the funding just hadn’t been released yet. 

Even Annerose, who had endless patience, found her patience wearing quite thin, as the clock ticked further past noon. She needed this task done, and she needed it done immediately. She finally ended up at the desk of Lieutenant-Commander Sanchez, whom she had at least met in the past. Annerose was at her wits end, and she said, “Sir, if you cannot get the money released from whatever stasis it’s in, I am going to have to call Rear Admiral Traung and have you explain to him why exactly his ships need to launch without the supplies sitting right there on the airfield tarmac.”

“I do believe you’re bluffing, Cadet von Müsel,” Sanchez said. “The money was frozen because the fifth fleet’s head of medicine didn’t sign on the original order.”

“Then how did the supplies get ordered in the first place?” Annerose demanded. 

“The mistake was only caught during last week’s audit, and I guess the message never got back up to Cazerne.”

“How do we fix this problem, sir?” Annerose asked, hoping that her cheeks weren’t too red. She felt about as angry as Reinhard sometimes got, and she was trying to keep her cool. Sanchez seemed unflustered, but Annerose felt like this whole thing was coming down on her head, and she needed to deal with it or risk disappointing everyone, but primarily Cazerne.

He drummed his fingers on the table. “I can fudge it if we call it a general supplies order rather than a medical order, but I need a signature.”

“Whose?”

“Anyone with authority in the fifth fleet.”

“Give me whatever paper needs to be signed. I’ll get somebody to sign off on it.”

Sanchez printed something out, circled a line in red pen, then handed the paper to Annerose. “Good luck.”

This was better than nothing. She had no idea who to get a signature from, so she stopped back at her desk in Cazerne’s office to consult the building directory. She called several people who were in the direct line of fire for this order: the medical chief, the fifth fleet’s chief supply officer, Rear Admiral Traung’s adjutant, then his second in command, then finally tried Traung himself. But she wasn’t able to get through to any of them, presumably because they were all imminently preparing to launch, and were busy.

She just needed somebody’s signature from the fifth fleet. Anybody’s.

Annerose decided on her last resort, someone who probably didn’t want to deal with whatever Traung’s supply issue was, but who was at least attached to the fifth fleet. Annerose marched herself down to Commodore Bucock’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he said.

Annerose entered and saluted sharply. Bucock was sitting behind his desk, drinking a cup of coffee. “Oh, Cadet von Müsel, what a surprise. I heard you caused quite a stir today.”

“I did?” she asked, momentarily surprised.

“My friend, Commodore Chen Kailong, said you were quite the presence in your meeting with the entire sixth fleet higher staff.”

“Oh, that,” Annerose said. “I was just trying to get through it, sir.”

He smiled. “Congratulations on getting through it, then. But that’s not what you came to see me about?”

“Yes, sorry, sir, this day has been one thing after another, since Commander Cazerne isn’t here.” She quickly explained the situation with the stranded medical supplies, then asked, “I know it’s an imposition to put your name on something that has nothing to do with you, but would you be able to sign off on the purchase order?”

Bucock rubbed his chin. “This will solve your problem?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Alright, let me see that,” he said. Annerose handed him the purchase order, and he pulled a pen from his desk drawer as he carefully read it over. “You’ll have to tell Commander Cazerne that both he and Traung owe me one.”

“I’m certain that they will both greatly appreciate the favor, sir. I certainly do.”

He chuckled a bit as he signed. “It’s nice to see you taking so much responsibility.”

“If I didn’t, I don’t know who would, sir,” Annerose said. “It seems that Commander Cazerne has made himself a little too vital.”

“He’s only getting more vital by the day,” Bucock said. “He’s due for a promotion soon, you know.”

“That will just be one more thing for me to congratulate him for.”

“Has the baby been born yet?” Bucock asked as he handed the paper back to her. Annerose looked it over to make sure that there wasn’t anything else that needed to be done.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t heard from him all day, which makes me nervous. I hope it’s going alright.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. His wife is a lovely woman. You should go deal with that, though, instead of standing here gossiping with an old man like me.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you again.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m sure I’ll see you around again, but enjoy your school year if I don’t see you before you leave, Cadet.”

Annerose smiled and saluted and headed out.

It took a little more effort still to get the medical supplies moving to where they needed to go, but they did get there, and by two o’clock, they were beginning to be loaded on board the ships that they needed to, and Annerose could finally relax a little. Not too much, because she still had to deal with all of her normal tasks, and people still kept coming in and out of Cazerne’s office, asking for things that she had to then deal with. But all of that was normal.

As she got ready to leave the office that night, her phone buzzed in her pocket: a message from Cazerne.

It was a picture of Hortense, exhausted looking in a hospital bed, holding the chubbiest baby Annerose had ever seen.

< Charlotte Phyllis Cazerne, born at 2:42pm, 3.9kg, 51cm long

> Congratulations!!!!

< Sorry for abandoning you all day. Please tell me that nothing collapsed in my absence.

> Everything is taken care of, sir.

> Though you owe Commodore Bucock a favor

< From the sound of it, I am sure I owe you one as well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is stupid long. So I... apologize? Is that a thing that one apologizes for?
> 
> Title is from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQ1i278NJsk (well, technically that's a cover version of the song, but it's the version I grew up listening to haha).
> 
> If you've been reading my original fiction, you may know that I am. slightly obsessed. with weird religious stuff. This is due to my upbringing. Anyway I have not yet successfully written a science fiction story without weirdo religion stuff, and since the earth cult plotline was PAINFULLY underdeveloped in the ova, it's my sacred (lol) duty to fix that by giving some actual personal stakes to the conflict.
> 
> The Cazerne family is normal even compared to Yang Wen-li, so having them hang out with Reinhard and Annerose, who are both operating on their own different levels of "completely unhinged", is very fun to me.
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think :^)
> 
> Thanks to Lydia for the beta read. I'm javert on tumblr and natsinator on twitter, feel free to come chat with me there. My original fiction also has someone giving birth, though under even less ideal circumstances: bit.ly/shadowofheaven and my other story also has someone stepping up to fill a managerial role that they did not particularly want: bit.ly/arcadispark


	9. Hair Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the several year time skip.

_ March 792 U.C., Heinessen _

Reinhard arrived at the Officers’ Academy alone. Though Annerose was now in her senior year, her summer internship had been off planet, on a space station constructing battleships, which meant that she took a different path back to school. Reinhard hadn’t seen her, and he hadn’t been in contact with her, either. Although he missed his sister and wanted to see her, he admitted that it was probably for the best that he did not even have the temptation of letting her into his room to help him set up his belongings.

He couldn’t say that he took an immediate dislike to his roommates, but he didn’t take an immediate liking to them, either. All three of them were two years older than himself, a fact that he was not keeping a secret, but was also not going to say unless someone asked. Making himself into an easy target would mean getting into fights, and Annerose would certainly disapprove of that. The three roommates were Gabriel Mifune, a tall boy with dark brown skin and a gold ring on his hand; Charlie Lendecker, who was broad shouldered but twitchy; and Jose Perrau, a pasty faced boy who had a very homemade looking tattoo on his upper arm. They all sized each other up, in the way that young men in half-competition usually did, and all independently reached the conclusion that it was perhaps best to just ignore each other, for the time being.

Before she had left for her summer internship, Annerose and Reinhard had had a discussion about the upcoming school year. Reinhard had told her that he wanted to sink or swim on his own, and that she shouldn’t give him any warning about what was coming. She had bitten her lip and sighed, but had accepted. He knew that something was coming, something that included getting his head shaved, but he didn’t know what, or when, so he looked around himself cautiously throughout his first day of orientation. He wasn’t nervous, but he did not like the feeling of being caught off guard, so he kept himself on guard. The longer things went without something happening, the higher the tension grew, and he caught himself biting his finger at dinner, looking around at his classmates and taking stock of them. 

That night, Reinhard fell asleep easily, laying flat on his back on the top bunk. He was blessed with a constitution that allowed him to take rest where he could get it, and wake up quickly. If something happened during the night, he knew he would be ready for it. So, when the shouting and pounding started in the hallway, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Reinhard got out of bed and put on his shoes immediately, then the rest of his uniform. He had no desire to face whatever was about to happen in an undressed state. Last, he slipped his locket underneath his shirt. He considered leaving it behind, just in case whatever was coming might divest him of it, but he would prefer to have it with him. Before the school year had started, he had taken a preventative measure of delicately removing half of the lock of hair and leaving it safely in his room at home. He might take the locket with him for comfort and as a reminder, but there was no reason to be completely foolish about such things.

He was dressed before any of his roommates had even gotten up; they were all far slower to rise than he was. When the pounding reached the door, Reinhard opened it, not caring what state his fellows were in, and faced the bare-chested upperclassman with a flat expression.

“Thought this was a girl’s room for a second,” the upperclassman laughed. “Let’s go, freshies. Going for a little run.” He grabbed Reinhard by the shoulder, and Reinhard twisted out of his grip with a sneer. 

“I’m perfectly capable of moving on my own, thank you,” Reinhard said.

This made the upperclassman laugh harder. “Well, get moving, then!” He shoved Reinhard forward, down the hallway with the throng of other students, and Reinhard ran.

Considering that he regularly went running around Wrightsville, this nighttime expedition was much easier on him than many of his classmates, and he ended up near the front of the pack, feet pounding across the asphalt of the city, then the muddy grass of fields.

He looked around for Annerose but didn’t see her anywhere. That didn’t necessarily mean that she wasn’t there. Reinhard wasn’t sure if he would prefer her to be there or not.

His question about Annerose’s presence on the run was answered sooner, rather than later. Someone holding a torch jogged up beside him. Reinhard ignored them for a moment, but when they said, “You’re Reinhard von Müsel?” he turned his head and looked.

The person jogging beside him was a woman, with long black braids, barefoot, wearing uniform pants but only a tank top. He had to imagine that she was cold, and that her feet hurt, but she was an upperclassman (judging by the presence of the torch in her hand), so she really had no reason not to be wearing shoes.

“I am,” he said.

“Your sister told me to make sure you didn’t cause trouble.”

“Who are you?” Reinhard asked.

“Kino Mejia.”

“Oh, her roommate.”

“Yes. Are you going to cause trouble?”

“She needn’t send spies after me.”

“If I were a spy, you wouldn’t see me at all,” Kino said. Her voice was very odd and flat. Reinhard found it hard to believe that she was friends with his sister, but apparently they had been involuntary roommates for one year, and then voluntary roommates from then on, so they must have gotten along well enough.

“And what would you do if I did cause trouble?”

Kino just gave him a look, then increased her speed and moved to the very front of the pack of runners, away from him. 

The running continued until they reached a fallow field, and the whole assembly stopped, surrounded by the seniors with torches. Reinhard had somehow gotten pushed to the back of the group during the period where everyone clumped up, so he couldn’t exactly hear or see what the man in the front was shouting about, but then slowly the group began to shuffle around, and Reinhard could see what was happening: students were getting pulled from the group, forced to kneel, and having their heads shaved.

Well, it wasn’t very different from what he had expected, but he still didn’t like it. He touched the end of his own hair, which was quite long. His other hand found the necklace under his shirt. It had been a long time since he had given Kircheis a chunk of his hair. He imagined that Kircheis still had it, but Reinhard was about to no longer have the matching pieces. There were worse things in the world, and he had had time to prepare for the idea.

Someone grabbed his arm while he was thinking, and started pulling him along. “Don’t touch me!” Reinhard snapped.

“I have to!” the person grabbing him hissed: a girl’s voice. “Come on.”

Still, Reinhard didn’t let her drag him to the front, where everyone was getting their hair cut off. He walked under his own power. Several people tried to force him to his knees, and Reinhard resisted, but then on the edge of the crowd, he saw the woman whom Annerose had sent to make sure he behaved, Kino, and she caught his eye, then made a short jerk of her head downward. If it was what Annerose wanted, then… He bent his knees and fell to the muddy ground. It disgusted him.

“Sorry,” the girl behind him said, and then her fingers were in his hair, and the razor was buzzing on his head. 

When it was over, he wrenched himself away from the people holding him down, and stormed to the edge of the gathering. “You’re supposed to do the next one!” the girl shouted after him, but he was already leaving. He couldn’t bring himself to touch his newly bald head, but he did stand around and try to brush the mud off the knees of his pants, ignoring the mass of students who were either humiliated or invigorated. Reinhard didn’t consider himself to fall into either of those two broad camps. He was mostly annoyed, but there wasn’t anything he could do about the annoyance, so he was forced to stand there and stew in it.

The first night was the worst one, even though it was the only one he had been prepared for. On the second night, he was surprised when he was dragged out of bed, but mere physical challenges and interruptions to sleep were nothing. And Annerose had come.

They didn’t speak to each other during the week, but he saw her. He wondered why she had bothered to show up, when he first glimpsed her running alongside the group, torch in hand, the second night. It didn’t exactly seem like participating in hazing was an activity that aligned with Annerose’s personality, and her roommate should have reported to her that he didn’t need to have his behavior monitored. Still, he couldn’t say he was ungrateful to have her there, even though they both ignored each other.

When they came to the side of a wide, rapid river, and were ordered to strip and swim, Reinhard looked among the assembled students, who were all haphazardly taking off their clothes and tossing them on the riverbank, with the seniors gathering them up and taking them across the river in little boats, Reinhard figured he understood why Annerose was in attendance. He took off his uniform, folded it neatly, and placed his locket in the shirt pocket. He laid it down on the ground, then dove into the murky river water, ice-cold stealing his breath. He was a good swimmer, though, and made it across easily. On the other side, he saw his sister berating some other senior for something, waving a torch in his face, while Reinhard’s clothes were neatly folded in the boat she had dragged up to the shore. He retrieved them without acknowledging her, but found his locket exactly where he had left it.

How kind of her.

The week continued in this way. He would catch glimpses of Annerose as they did their nighttime trials. The closest he actually got to her was the night that they had to crawl through the sewer tunnels. He noticed that the upperclassmen interspersed themselves with the freshmen, which Reinhard didn’t understand until they were deep in the tunnel, in the slimy pitch-blackness, foul water up to his chest, crawling on his hands and knees, feeling the push of the person behind him. Reinhard was inching his way through the tunnel, and found himself crashing into the person in front of him, while the person behind him bumped into him.

“Why are we stopped?” Reinhard demanded. There wasn’t any clear answer, people behind him and in front of him making strained whispers. In the quiet sloshing, there was a sound, growing louder and louder, of someone sobbing. “Who is that?”

The sobs grew louder. 

“I can’t get him to move!” someone called back. “We’re stuck.”

“What’s the matter with him?”

“Push him!”

“Oh my god, we’re going to die in here because some stupid idiot--”

“I can’t see!”

“We’re lost!”

“It’s a straight line, we’re not lost.”

“There’s a branch ahead, I--”

The person who was sobbing began to wail. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”

All down the line, people started yelling, all incoherent and chaotic, which only made the person in front who was stopped scream louder.

“Everyone stop yelling!” a voice demanded. It took a second for Reinhard to process it, over the echoing, gurgling, scream-filled tunnel, but it was Annerose. She sounded more in control and imperious than Reinhard had ever heard her before, and her voice, unusual for being so assured, and unusual for being a woman’s, cut through the noise and minds of the panicked freshmen. They lapsed into silence, just enough that Annerose could lower her voice to a more soothing tone. The person in the front was still sobbing and choking, half saying incoherent phrases.

“In the front, what’s your name?” After a moment of non-response, she said again, “Come on, what’s your name?”

“I can’t breathe!”

“Yes you can,” she said, her voice very calm, carrying past all the other students in the tunnel. “You’d be dead if you couldn’t breathe, and you’re alive and talking. What’s your name?”

“Jonathan Kiel,” he said, coughing.

“And what’s the matter, Jonathan Kiel?” Annerose asked.

“I--”

“There’s a branch up ahead, isn’t there?” she asked. “And you lost the person in front of you. It’s okay. Take a deep breath.”

“I can’t breathe!”

“Yes, you can,” she said. “Take the right hand path.”

“I can’t!”

“Put your hands in front of you.”

There was a sloshing sound.

“Good. Just move your hands. Now your knees.”

The whole line of students inched forward a little.

“Good. Keep doing that. One hand in front of the other.”

And the line moved, and they made it out. If it had been Reinhard alone in the tunnel, he probably would have crawled over the other boys and throttled whoever was holding up the group. Perhaps it was for the best that Annerose had been there to talk everyone down from their panic. Reinhard had to wonder if there were other seniors elsewhere in the tunnels who had to do similar things, or if it had been sheer luck that he had been trapped with the one student who couldn’t bring himself to move through without being comforted.

No, he didn’t want Annerose’s help, but he did find the parallel existence they were living odd. He wanted to talk to her, but she was deliberately avoiding him, so he would let her speak to him on her own time.

Reinhard knew that things were over on the last day of the week, because he had heard the upperclassmen chatting among themselves about “Hell Week”, so he made the reasonable assumption that the hazing period would soon be over. He wasn’t suffering unduly. He didn’t mind the nighttime jaunts, and found the challenges they provided somewhat interesting. He slept in shifts, because he was good at it, and so he wasn’t even that tired during the days. His roommates were suffering, though, and they glared at him in barely restrained anger when he got up easily in the night and got dressed as people began running through the halls once again. Reinhard made a mental note that he would have to keep an eye out for that.

The tenor on the last night was different, more cheerful, and the upperclassmen weren’t shoving the freshmen around quite as much. Annerose wasn’t there.

It was some kind of party that they ended up at, with a bonfire and alcohol. Reinhard couldn’t say that he’d ever been to a party before, and he decided that he didn’t like it. He didn’t know anyone here, and he had little desire to talk to anyone, so he stood around and sipped his beer (he decided that he didn’t like beer particularly, either) and watched as several guys almost fell into the bonfire, on several different occasions. It might have been funny if it hadn’t also been pathetic. His eyes roamed over the gathering, and he saw Annerose’s roommate, standing on the edge of the party, watching like a hawk.

Reinhard walked over to her. “Have I been well behaved enough to suit my sister?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Is there a reason she didn’t come tonight?”

“She didn’t think her presence was required.”

“But yours was?”

“I have nothing better to do with my time,” Kino said.

“I find that hard to believe.”

She shrugged. “I don’t sleep well, so I might as well be up.”

“Annerose didn’t tell me that about you.”

“Annerose is good at keeping her own counsel. As am I.”

“Is there a lot that she hasn’t told me about school?”

“I would have no way of knowing.”

“Hm,” Reinhard said. “Is she keeping away from me on purpose?”

“She wanted you to have space. You’re free to speak with her.”

“I see.” Reinhard paused and took a sip of his beer. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“I’m going to leave in a minute.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate, but she raised her cup. “To your health, Reinhard von Müsel.”

“And to yours.” They drank, and then Kino nodded at him and turned away, walking, then running, out of the party area. No one stopped her.

Reinhard stood around. It was clear that the seniors were allowed to come and go as they pleased, but he had no idea if the freshmen were being afforded the same privilege, so he remained. He could have, he supposed, spoken to other people at the party, but he didn’t know any of them well enough to interest him, or even to think that they might be worth getting to know well enough.

It was as he was standing around doing nothing, fiddling with his locket with one hand and holding his half-empty beer cup with his other, that Reinhard became aware of a somewhat familiar voice, raised in half anger, half alarm, on the periphery of the party, towards the edge of the clearing that they were in.

“I would prefer not to,” the girl said.

Reinhard turned and looked. The girl was in between two men, both of them freshmen, and had her arms crossed. “Come on,” one of them said, and reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

“I’m not sure what gave you the impression that I’m interested,” the girl said.

“You were talking to Aaron just fine,” the other said.

The girl didn’t respond, and tried to walk away, but they blocked her exit. Reinhard decided that he wasn’t going to allow this to continue, so he walked directly up to the trio. Kino had gone, so there was no one here to report on his bad behavior to his sister, if this became a real problem.

“I believe she told you to leave her alone,” Reinhard said, getting their attention.

“No, she didn’t. Isn’t that right?” one of them, the taller one, said.

“Who are you?” asked the other.

The girl looked at him with an expression that hovered somewhere between relief and annoyance, but he ignored her for the moment. “How about you leave,” Reinhard said.

“You a knight in shining armor, or something?” the tall one asked. “Look pretty scrawny to me.”

“Heh, maybe he just wants a piece of the action, too.”

“I’m asking you politely once more, and then I won’t ask politely again. You should leave.”

“And what are you going to do after we’re gone?” The short one laughed at his own ‘joke’.

“More importantly, what will you do if we don’t leave?”

Reinhard had gotten their full attention, which was good, because it meant that they were paying less attention to the girl. He glanced at her, and then flicked his eyes towards the treeline, urging her to go. She furrowed her brow for a second, then began creeping backwards, away from the group. In order to keep the attention of the two men, Reinhard said. “I’m sure you don’t want to find out what I’ll do.”

The tall one snorted. “You talk a big game, don’t you?”

“Hey, where are you going?” the other one asked, catching the girl walking away. He grabbed her arm again.

“Let her go,” Reinhard said. The girl yanked her arm out of her captor’s.

“I’m not sure what your problem is, man,” the tall one said. “We’re just having fun.”

“You know exactly what my problem is,” Reinhard said. He stepped up towards the tall one. He figured that it was more likely that he would get them to leave this woman alone if he distracted them with something else.

“You didn’t have to get involved,” the short one said. “It’s really none of your business.”

“But I am involved now, so what are you going to do about it?” Reinhard asked. He leaned forward. He looked almost ghoulish in the light of the distant bonfire. Just like he had said to Annerose once, his fresh baldness brought out his cheekbones.

“Oh, you want to fight?” the tall one asked. “Two on one? You’re drunk.” 

“Perhaps I am,” Reinhard said, though he was anything but: he had only had half a cup of beer. He tossed his cup to the ground. “Let her go. We can go over there and settle this.” He jerked his head towards the woods.

The tall one and the short one glanced at each other. “You know what? Maybe that’ll be fun. But you should come,” the tall one said, looking at the girl. “Since he’s fighting for your honor, or whatever.”

“I don’t need anyone to fight over my honor,” the girl said.

The short one laughed. “Regardless of what you want, it looks like it’s happening, doesn’t it.”

This was not exactly going the way Reinhard had planned. “Just go along with it,” he said to the girl, putting a tone of annoyance and derision into his voice. “This is the fastest way to get them to leave you alone.”

The two guys laughed. “You really do think a lot of yourself,” the tall one said. The short one grabbed the woman’s arm, this time tightly enough that she couldn’t pry herself out of his grip. “Let’s go, then, if you want to fight us so badly.”

The short one dragged the girl along, towards the treeline. Reinhard was distinctly uncomfortable with that, but he would have to let her go in a minute, as soon as Reinhard actually started to fight them. He felt pretty confident about his odds, even two on one against older students. They walked a little way into the woods, away from the bonfire, so the only light was the moon overhead, and the sounds of the party were muted. No one had seen them go, or was paying any attention to their argument at all, which was probably for the best.

The place they were in wasn’t exactly a clearing; they were in among pine trees, which grew spaced quite far apart, and the ground was littered with rocks of all sizes, half obscured by a blanket of soft pine needles. In a better time, the scenery would have been pretty, but Reinhard was not looking around to admire its beauty; he was taking stock of how the landscape could be used to his advantage.

The tall one was taking off his jacket, while the short one continued to hold the girl, which rather infuriated Reinhard. “Let her go now,” he said.

“Not until I need to step into this, which I doubt I’ll have to,” the short one said.

“Come on, take off your jacket,” the tall one said. He was shirtless, having tossed his jacket onto a nearby tree branch.

Reinhard took off his jacket and shirt, folding them neatly, taking his time.

“Nice necklace,” the tall one said. Reinhard pretended to start laying down his shirt and jacket on a nearby rock, but as he bent down, he dropped them, then lunged for the tall man’s waist. 

Caught completely off guard, Reinhard was able to knock the tall man to the ground, ending up over him. It gave him a second of advantage. On his knees, he tried to punch the face of the man on the ground. He wasn’t going to win that easily, though, and his opponent rolled out of the way, Reinhard’s fist missing by a fraction. His legs locked around Reinhard’s waist during the roll, trying to bring Reinhard to the ground, but Reinhard forced himself free, and then both of them were on their knees, facing each other. Reinhard got to his feet first.

“You don’t fight fair,” the tall man said, slightly out of breath.

“No, I don’t,” Reinhard agreed. His opponent lunged at him, but Reinhard stepped slightly to the side, and kneed him in the stomach, making him double over. Reinhard got behind him and lept onto his back, wrapping his arms around his throat and his legs around his hips, causing him to stumble forward, then backwards. Reinhard felt the man start to lean back, clearly intending to drop to the ground with Reinhard underneath him, and, as he did so, Reinhard let go, pulling the man the rest of the way to the ground. Reinhard ended up on his feet over him, and kicked the man in his side, hard. The man yelled out in pain, then tried to scramble away. Reinhard brought back his foot to kick him again, but then two things happened simultaneously: the man on the ground tried to grab his leg, and he saw the shorter man coming towards him, out of the corner of his eye, having abandoned holding the girl.

Reinhard changed the trajectory of his kick the best he could and spun towards the approaching shorter man, who was startled by Reinhard’s sudden change, but not deterred. He swung a punch at Reinhard’s face, and Reinhard ducked, then swung back. It was now a two on one fight, and the guy who he had dropped to the ground was getting up, though slow and wincing, as Reinhard faced the shorter man.

His new opponent was stronger than the taller man had been, visibly so, but that made him commit to his punches in a way that threw him off balance. Reinhard suspected that he hadn’t been in many real fights before. Not that Reinhard had himself, at least not for several years, but he was agile and familiar with the way his own body moved, in a way that this man clearly wasn’t.

As the shorter man swung at him, he leaned forward, putting most of his weight on one foot, Reinhard observed. He dodged that punch, then moved back just a hair, so that the shorter man was forced to overextend by a hair, should he want to punch Reinhard.

“Come on, hit me,” Reinhard taunted. It felt below him, but he was going to use whatever tools he needed. His words had the intended effect, and the shorter man tried punching him again. This time, Reinhard kicked at him, ending up taking a hit to the shoulder (an acceptable sacrifice) while his foot crashed into the weight bearing leg of his opponent. He went down, hard, a shocked expression on his face as he tried to break his fall with his hands.

Reinhard was going to kick him in the ribs, too, but then the tall guy grabbed him from behind, one arm around Reinhard’s throat, hooking his legs around Reinhard’s, trying to bring them to the ground. Reinhard would be at a disadvantage if this became a wrestle, so he tried to twist out of the grip.

He was lucky, in a way, that his opponent thought to humiliate him, by grabbing at his locket rather than focusing on choking him. Reinhard felt the strain of the chain on the back of his neck. He elbowed the ribs of the man who was grabbing him, which caused the man to let out a measure of breath and lift the arm that was around Reinhard’s neck ever so slightly, enough for Reinhard to move his head. Reinhard did, moving his head down and biting the arm as hard as he could.

The tall man swore loudly and tried to shove Reinhard away from him with his other hand. Reinhard let go, tasting blood in his mouth, but not because he was being pushed, only because the shorter man had recovered, and was swinging at him again. Reinhard ducked, which threw the shorter man off balance, not wanting to end up hitting his ally who was right behind Reinhard. Reinhard kicked at his leg again, but he didn’t fall for that trick a second time. 

Still, that had given Reinhard an opening to get out from between the two, and he moved behind the shorter man, who turned and lunged at him.

It may have been completely unsporting of him, but Reinhard let the short man get close, then kneed him in the crotch, as hard as he could. The short man went down like a sack of bricks.

Reinhard ignored him for the moment, because the tall guy was coming back, swinging a punch at Reinhard with his uninjured right arm. Reinhard stepped sideways and grabbed the arm, trying to force it down, but the tall man turned, using his whole body weight, and threw Reinhard to the ground.

For the first time in this fight, with the other man on top of him, Reinhard got a little nervous. He kicked upwards, but his legs weren’t in an ideal position, and the man ended up getting his arm across Reinhard’s chest, holding him to the ground as he reared his arm back to punch Reinhard in the face. Reinhard tried to move out of the way, and was somewhat successful, the first blow only grazing his cheekbone and ear. Painful, but not fight ending. He still couldn’t quite get out from under the large, heavy man, even as he tried to use his own arms for leverage.

The man raised his arm for another punch, but suddenly his weight shifted, and Reinhard felt a kind of second hand impact. In the darkness, with the man directly above him, Reinhard couldn’t see what had happened, but the man let him go, rolling to the side, and Reinhard squirmed out, getting to his feet.

The girl stood behind the tall man, wielding a thick tree branch that she had picked up from the ground. She held it like a club and swung it again towards the tall man, who had made it onto his hands and knees, catching him in his already wounded side. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his side. The girl dropped the stick as though it were on fire.

“Where’d the other guy go?” Reinhard asked.

“Ran,” the girl said, slightly out of breath.

“You should have done the same.” He was annoyed that this girl probably felt like she had rescued him. He would have been able to win the fight, he knew; he had just been momentarily inconvenienced. Reinhard turned towards the tall man, who was clambering to his feet. “Are we done here?” Reinhard asked. “Or are you going to continue being stupid?”

“Fuck you,” the tall guy said, grabbing his jacket from the tree branch he had left it on, and limping away, back towards the party.

“You shouldn’t have fought them,” the girl said.

“You sound like my sister,” Reinhard said, gathering up his shirt and shaking it off. “Sometimes violence is the simplest solution. They probably won’t bother you again.”

“I hope you don’t expect anything from me.”

The expression of complete disdain Reinhard made was fortunately mostly invisible in the darkness. He pulled his shirt on, then his jacket, then started to walk away.

“You’re leaving?” she asked.

“I’m going back to my dorm,” he said. She jogged after him, stumbling slightly over the tree roots in the darkness.

“What’s your name? I feel like I recognize you from somewhere.”

“I believe you shaved my head,” Reinhard said.

“Oh! Yeah, you really did your best to make that difficult for me.”

Reinhard turned to look at her. “I was well behaved.”

She laughed. “You know you were supposed to pick someone else to shave.”

“I had no desire to participate in a humiliation ritual,” he said.

“I get that,” she said. “My dad warned me about it, so I was prepared. It would have been pretty shocking if I hadn’t been.”

Reinhard nodded. He didn’t have the high ground on that point, since he had also been warned about that particular aspect.

“I guess I just didn’t expect to see you around again after that. I thought you were leaving.”

This angered Reinhard, and he hissed, “I’m not weak.”

“I didn’t say you were!”

But he didn’t respond, and just stalked off, leaving her behind at the edge of the party.

* * *

Reinhard found Annerose the next day, at lunch in the dining hall. She was sitting with a few senior women, and she waved him over, scooting over so that he could drag up a chair next to her. She introduced him to the women, who were members of the women’s society, and they were vaguely patronising to him, which he tolerated for his sister’s sake. He stopped short of allowing them to pet his shorn head, though.

He rarely saw this side of her, the one where she was the vivacious leader of a group, but he rather liked to see it. She directed the flow of the conversation, in complete control, and he felt, for a moment, at least, fine to follow in her shadow. 

After lunch, Annerose said goodbye to her friends and walked with him around campus. “Glad to see you survived Hell Week,” Annerose said.

Although he had been offended when the girl from the night before said something similar, he was in a better mood now, and this was Annerose, who knew him. “Did you think I would do any different?”

“Of course not.” She sighed a little. “I will miss the hair, though.”

“It will grow back,” Reinhard said, very grudgingly. “Why did you send your roommate to spy on me?”

“Hah, you talked to Kino? I just wanted to be sure that you didn’t get in any serious trouble.”

“Could she have stopped me?”

Annerose considered for a second, then nodded. “But either way, I’m glad you didn’t cause trouble.”

Reinhard smiled, and was careful not to let the lie show on his face. “Of course I wouldn’t.”

“I know. I just can’t get out of the bad habit of looking out for you.”

“Did you know that about half of my professors asked me if we were related?”

She laughed. “I’m sorry for the embarrassment.”

“No, it’s fine,” Reinhard said. “I’d be a poor brother if I was upset that you’d made a name for yourself.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to make your own impression.”

“Of course. I fully intend to be at the top of my class.”

“I’m sure you will be. Let me know if you need any help.”

“You’re a poor sister for insinuating that I can’t do my own schoolwork,” he said, but he was smiling.

“Have you made any friends yet?”

“No,” Reinhard said. “I think it will take some time to get an idea of who is worth being friends with.”

“Not everything has to be so transactional.”

“And the group you hang out with isn’t made up of the most competent people you can find?” Reinhard asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Well, of course, but--”

“I’m not wrong, then.”

“There are other reasons to be friends with people, too, you know.” She paused for a second. “Remember when I told you years ago that you should make friends. Giving that a chance then made you happy. I’d give you the same advice now.”

Reinhard fiddled with his locket. “I’ll think about it.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you’ll at least think about it.”

They talked about other, less consequential, things then, until Annerose had to go, since she was going to a student government funding meeting, to submit the women’s society’s proposed budget for the upcoming year.

* * *

Several weeks later, Reinhard felt as though he had settled into his life at the Officers’ Academy fairly well. He wasn’t friends with his roommates, but he thought that they realized that it would be mutually beneficial to not cause trouble for each other, since they were going to have to live together for the rest of the year. If it was any consolation to Annerose, he wasn’t the only source of tension; the entire group of four was mildly antagonistic in every direction. 

He was doing well in all of his classes, and enjoyed thoroughly trouncing his classmates any time there was any sort of competition to be had, whether it was in the computer simulation strategy games or in the physical fitness classes. Class rank wasn’t public, but Reinhard felt fairly sure that he was at the top. He would have to wait until the end of the semester grades calculated to find out if that was true, but he suspected it was, and he went about his days with a confidence that matched his assumed place in life.

He didn’t see Annerose as much as he might have liked to. She was very busy, being the president of the womens’ society, and the top of her own class. It wasn’t as though he had seen much of her over the past several years, so this was actually an improvement from what it had been. Still, he found it odd to be in the same place but so distant, occasionally catching glimpses of her as she walked across the green between classes, or sat with her own friends in the dining hall. He didn’t intrude on her personal life because there was no point in it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t realized she had a whole existence separate from him over the past several years; he was just now getting to see it, as through a window, staring through it into a different world that he had no part in.

She did insist on inviting him to things, some of which truly tested his patience.

One night, she texted him.

< This Friday, the women’s society is holding a dance.

< You will be in attendance.

> I don’t like parties

< It’s not a request; it’s a demand.

< :)

> Since when do you get to boss me around?

< Since always.

< You’ll have a good time, I know it.

< There’s someone I want you to meet.

> Who?

But he didn’t get a response to that question. He was annoyed at the demand, but he wasn’t going to directly refuse his sister. Grudgingly, he admitted that she might be right that he could use some friends, and he trusted her taste, at least a little. 

So, that Friday evening, he got dressed in his one formal, non-uniform outfit, which was a smart black suit. His roommate, Gabriel, asked, “Got a hot date, to be dressing up like that?”

Reinhard ignored him and headed out.

The dance was held in the upscale reception hall of a restaurant a good distance off campus. It was some kind of fundraiser, which was why it was in such a nice location, but Reinhard had gotten his ticket for free through Annerose. He didn’t see his sister when he came in, so he loitered around the food table, picking at the hors d’oeuvres and watching the room. It seemed that most people were older, and there seemed to be too many women for all of them to be from the academy, since the gender ratio was so unbalanced. As he was contemplating this, someone came up beside him.

“Are you Reinhard von Müsel?” a woman asked.

Reinhard turned, putting on a gracious smile. The woman looking at him was dressed very nicely, in a slinky red dress, and she had blonde, shoulder length hair. She was too old to be an academy student.

“I am,” Reinhard said. “And who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Jessica Edwards,” the woman said with a smile. “Your sister’s told me so much about you, so I’m glad to finally meet you at last.”

“The feeling is mutual, Ms. Edwards,” Reinhard said. He offered her his hand to shake, and she did. “Annerose speaks very highly of you.”

“Does she indeed?” Edwards asked. “You’d think that she’d be tired of me bossing her around, and tell you as much.”

Reinhard laughed. “I don’t believe she ever mentioned that, no.”

“Really?” Edwards smiled. “You know, when I first met her, I had to practically drag her to come to one of the women’s society meetings, and now she’s president, and a good one at that.”

“My sister is a very capable woman,” Reinhard said. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Well, she used to be a little timid.”

“I don’t know if I would describe her as that,” Reinhard said. “She just chooses both battles and friends very carefully.”

“She tells me that she’s always telling you to make friends, like I told her.”

“Oh, are you here on that errand as well?”

Edwards laughed. “No, I just came to say hello. Are you enjoying the party?”

“The food is very good,” Reinhard said. “Aside from that, I don’t really know anyone.”

“There’s plenty of people here for you to meet, should you like to do so. I work over at Thernusen College, so I made it my business to advertise this event over there. It’s good to socialize with people who aren’t soldiers, sometimes.”

“I’m not a soldier yet,” Reinhard said.

“It’s only a matter of time, unfortunately,” Jessica said. “Still, I suppose there’s nothing that can be done about that. Since you say you’re bored at this wonderful party, would you care to dance?”

“I see my sister didn’t tell you everything about me.”

“Not a fan of dancing?”

“I wouldn’t describe it that way.”

“Then what’s the harm?” Edwards grabbed his arm and dragged him gently away from the refreshments table and onto the dance floor. “There’s no point in coming to a dance if you aren’t going to dance.”

“If you insist,” he said.

She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, and they moved to the music. Reinhard wasn’t a bad dancer, but he was somewhat uncomfortable. He was not used to being touched by anyone, unless it was Annerose or someone attempting to hurt him. This was neither, so he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his own hands. Still, Edwards seemed to be enjoying herself, and she wasn’t trying to do anything other than dance, so Reinhard went along with it for a while.

“And how would Jean feel about you having your hands all over my brother?” Annerose asked, coming up beside the dancing pair.

“I don’t think he’d mind at all,” Jessica said. “Good to see you escaped the charity talk.”

“And it’s good to see you both enjoying yourselves.”

Reinhard disentangled himself from Jessica, who let him go without a fight. “You look nice,” he said. Annerose’s hair was done up, and she was wearing a simple but elegant black dress, with a necklace that Reinhard recognized as formerly belonging to their mother, though he didn’t think he had seen anyone wear it since they left Odin.

“Thank you,” Annerose said. 

“Was Ms. Edwards the person you summoned me here to meet?”

Annerose laughed. “No, but I’m glad to see she sought you out. There’s a freshman in the women’s society who I think you’d get along with. I forced her to come tonight, so she’s around somewhere, but I lost her when I had to go talk money with the food bank people.”

“And who is this?” Edwards asked, saving Reinhard from having to do so himself.

“Fredrica Greenhill,” Annerose said. “You know what, I’ll go look for her. You two keep entertaining yourselves.”

“It’s more like I’m keeping your brother trapped in my clutches,” Edwards said as Annerose flitted off.

“I don’t think you’re that bad,” Reinhard said, which made Edwards laugh.

“Such a compliment.”

They continued to dance for a while, Annerose apparently struggling to find this Greenhill. When the music changed to something more upbeat, Jessica taught Reinhard a very silly dance that accompanied the music. “I can’t believe you’ve never danced this one before,” she said, putting her hands behind her head and wiggling her hips comically.

“I didn’t attend any of my high school socials,” Reinhard said, though he imitated her for her amusement.

It was at that moment that Annerose returned, and she covered her mouth to keep from laughing aloud at him. Reinhard rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you do that dance,” he said. “Then you’ll have license to laugh at me.”

But, as he was saying that, his eyes fell on the girl behind Annerose. Even though she was dressed in a pretty blue party dress rather than in a dirty school uniform, he recognized her immediately. “You!” he said.

“Funny meeting you here,” Greenhill said dryly.

“You know each other?” Annerose asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Reinhard said, frowning. 

“We’ve made each other’s acquaintance before,” Greenhill said.

“I think I’ll leave you to it,” Edwards said, winking at Annerose and vanishing into the crowd.

“How did you meet?” Annerose asked.

“She shaved my hair,” Reinhard said, at the same time as Greenhill spoke.

“He almost lost a fistfight on my behalf.”

“What?” Annerose asked.

“I did not almost lose. I would have won,” Reinhard said. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“And when were you fighting?” Annerose asked, voice somewhat cold.

“The last night of Hell Week,” Reinhard and Greenhill said simultaneously. They glared at each other.

“You said you had been well behaved!” Annerose said, frowning.

“You could tell her that I was attempting to be a gentleman,” Reinhard said to Greenhill.

“I have no idea what you were attempting to do. I could have handled things myself.”

“Oh, really?” Reinhard asked. “I’d have liked to see it.” He crossed his arms.

“There’s no need for you to be rude,” Greenhill said.

“I could say the same to you.”

“Fredrica, could you please explain to me what this is about?” Annerose asked, with exaggerated patience.

“Jackson Colchester and Emmanuel Grant were making fools of themselves at the party at the end of Hell Week,” Greenhill said. “Your brother stopped them, which I  _ suppose _ I’m grateful for, though he thought that the best way to do that was to fight them. And he did almost lose.”

“Reinhard?”

“If you’re going to take her side on this, then I don’t see the point in me staying at the party,” Reinhard said, and started to turn away.

“There’s no side to take!” Greenhill said, sounding exasperated now. “What do you want? An apology from me?”

“At the very least, I’d like you to stop insinuating that I’m not capable,” Reinhard said.

“I didn’t intend to wound your pride,” Greenhill said. “So, sure, I apologize.”

Infuriating. She was infuriating. Reinhard glanced at Annerose, who lifted her chin in her own stubborn expression, and so Reinhard put a false smile on his face and said, “I accept your apology.”

“Great,” Annerose said. “Let’s try this again. Ms. Fredrica Greenhill, I’d like to introduce you to my brother, Reinhard von Müsel. Reinhard, this is Ms. Greenhill.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Reinhard said, and he stuck out his hand for her to shake. She met his eyes, and tried to crush his hand with her own. He didn’t back down, so they ended up holding hands for far longer than was absolutely necessary.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. von Müsel.” 

“Reinhard,” he said.

“Reinhard, then,” she agreed. 

“Excellent. Now, as I was saying, Fredrica is a wonderful member of the women’s society, and has already been a great help, even though she’s a freshman. I feel like two intelligent and capable people such as yourselves might both enjoy getting along, and perhaps being friends,” Annerose said. She glanced around the room, and saw that some suited man was making a bee-line towards their trio. “Unfortunately, I have to go for the moment. How about you two get to know each other better?”

Reinhard gave her an exhausted look, but Annerose was already turning to greet the man. “Mr. Hardwick, I’m so glad you could make it…”

Reinhard turned and walked away, towards the outside area of the venue. The air out there was cool, and there was a nice view of the riverfront, decorated with twinkling lights. A few harmless clouds scuttled across the night sky. There weren’t many people out there. Reinhard leaned on the balcony and stared out over the water, watching a couple small boats travel up and down its course. Greenhill sidled up beside him.

“You don’t actually have to do what my sister says, you know,” Reinhard said. “She wouldn’t be mad at you for not wanting to talk to me.”

“No, just disappointed,” Greenhill said. “And I like your sister, so I’m going to attempt to make less of a fool of myself in front of her from now on.”

“She should know better than to try to set me up with you.”

“Is that what this is?”

“I assume so.”

“And why shouldn’t she try?”

“I’m spoken for,” Reinhard said. “Though if you mention that to her, she’ll probably make a face.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not going to discuss it further,” Reinhard said idly. He pulled a leaf off the bush below the railing and twirled it around in his fingers. “If you want the details, you can embarrass her by prying.”

“I won’t.”

“How kind of you.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you at all.”

“What is there to understand?”

“Why did you fight Colchester and Grant?”

“I was hardly going to stand around and watch them take advantage of you. That’s all.”

“For any particular reason?”

“Is it not enough that it’s abhorrent behavior?”

“I didn’t see anyone else stepping in.”

“It was a loud party.”

“Not that loud.”

“If you are so curious, then go ahead and ask Annerose about that, too.”

“Is there a reason you’ve taken such a dislike to me?” Greenhill asked.

“I don’t dislike you.”

“You certainly sound like you do.”

“I’m trying to dissuade you from feeling like you have any obligation to stand here and talk to me. You don’t owe me anything, and you don’t need to bend to my sister’s whims, because she isn’t going to get what she wants. So you’re free to go.” He was annoyed, thinking back on the conversation he had had with Schenkopp several years ago, where Schenkopp had said it was more pleasant to spend time with people who weren’t feeling some kind of obligation.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” Greenhill said. “But it’s not as though I have any friends at this party, either.”

Reinhard laughed. “Ah, we’re two creatures stuck together out of pitiful circumstance, then, is it?”

“Sure. Talking to you is better than standing around doing nothing.”

“I’ll do my best to take that as a compliment, even though everything you’ve said to me thus far has been at least half insulting.”

Greenhill sighed. “Do you want to get something to drink?”

Reinhard fished in his pocket and handed her his drink ticket. “You’ll have to get it for me, on the off chance they’re carding. I’m underage.”

“Seventeen still?” she asked.

“Sixteen.”

“What?”

“I got ahead in school.”

“I see. Your sister won’t be mad if I do go get a drink for you?”

“She would probably be pleased.”

“Got a preference?”

“Wine, thanks.”

Greenhill nodded, then disappeared back inside. She emerged a few minutes later, holding two glasses of wine. She passed one to Reinhard.

“Cheers,” Reinhard said, raising his glass.

“To underage drinking,” Greenhill said.

Reinhard took a sip. He was trying to become a person who appreciated wine. 

“Are you liking the academy so far?” Greenhill asked, clearly trying to keep the conversation going.

“It’s better than high school,” Reinhard said. “And it’s going to get me where I want to be, which is enough.”

“And where do you want to be?”

“In space, taking down the Empire.”

“That’s a strong set of goals.”

“Well, what other reasons are there for being here?”

“Plenty,” Greenhill said. “I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

“Hm. Who’s your father?”

“Admiral Greenhill,” she said.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that was a relation.”

“It’s a common enough name. And I’m not trying to get favors out of it.”

“I see. I should congratulate you on having a competent father.”

She laughed. “Is that a thing that one should be congratulated on? It seems more like an accident of birth.”

“It’s better than the alternative.”

“What about you?” she asked. “What’s your family like?”

“You’ve met Annerose.”

“She’s the only one?”

“All people have a mother and a father, regardless of how they feel about them.”

“I’m sorry for prying, then, if it’s a sore subject.”

“My mother is fine,” Reinhard says. “She did one brave thing in her life, and I respect her for that, but mostly she stays in bed and sends too much money to her church. My father did one terrible thing in his life, and I hate him for it. I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing, and I would be rather pleased if he was dead.”

“Oh.”

“In terms of following in someone’s footsteps, Annerose is plenty. I’m only a few steps behind, which suits me.” He paused. “What about you? Do you like the academy?”

“It’s about what I expected,” she said. “I’m glad the women’s society is so welcoming.”

Reinhard nodded. “They seem to do well by their own.”

She shrugged. “It’s just nice to have other women around, since there’s so few of us.”

“There are no women at all in the Empire’s military, so I suppose you should be grateful to the Alliance for giving you a chance to make your mark here.”

“It’s not some right that was simply granted from on high,” Greenhill said.

“I didn’t mean to imply that,” Reinhard said, suddenly finding himself on the back foot. “I’m speaking of my own gratefulness to the Alliance, more than anything else.”

She laughed. “I see. You don’t strike me as one to be grateful for much.”

“Perhaps.” He sipped his wine and stared out at the river. 

“Should we make your sister happy?”

“By doing what?”

“Going to dance?”

“I believe I told you that I am not interested in you in the least.”

“I’m not so fantastically ugly that I can’t be danced with, even without hair.”

“It has nothing to do with what you look like.”

“You were dancing with Jessica.”

Reinhard finished his glass. “Because Ms. Edwards is the type who gets her way.”

“If you really can’t bear it, then I won’t press. But I do want to make your sister think I gave it a good try.”

Reinhard raised his eyebrows. “And that wouldn’t be a kind of lie?”

“Like you have a problem lying to her.”

He looked over at her, amused. “Alright, fine. I’ll dance with you.”

“Excellent.” She grinned like she had won something.

“You infuriate me,” Reinhard said mildly as they walked together to the dance floor.

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it.” 

Reinhard held out his hands for her to take. “And why is that?”

“It’s at least better than you thinking nothing of me at all.” She placed her hands on his and they began moving around the dance floor in time to the jaunty music. “You did save me from inconvenience, after all. I think that means something.”

“Hah, not really. None of this makes us friends.”

“What does make you friends with someone?”

“I wouldn’t even know. I’ve only ever had one.”

“I’d say that’s sad.”

“It’s not. I just choose very carefully.”

“And what does it take for you to choose?”

“It’s a high bar that’s impossible to describe.”

“And I haven’t cleared it?”

“I wouldn’t say so, no.”

“So, you don’t want to see me again?”

Reinhard raised an eyebrow, then raised his arm to spin Greenhill around. “Maybe in class, sometime.”

“You really are cruel.”

“Perhaps.” He smiled a little, then looked around the sides of the dance floor, observing everyone else in the room. He caught his sister watching them, a pleased expression on her face. “Look, there’s Annerose. Pretend like you’re having fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reinhard has been the POV character for 5 chapters, and in 4 of those, he has gotten into some kind of physical fight with somebody over something. (That's not even counting the chapter 1 deer lol.) This is because in part 1, we got to read all about Yang having fun strategy games, and here we get to see Reinhard just going ham. They're foils to eachother, or something.
> 
> Title is from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtSKj-Dy0Qw which is a great song on a great album.
> 
> Fredrica is unfortunately a little into Reinhard. Annerose is all grown up now. I'm so proud. Let's pretend that the timeline to this story a) makes any sense and b) matches canon. I don't think either of those things is true but god I cannot fix these dates it's a mess.
> 
> Let me know how ya feel :)
> 
> You know the drill: thanks to Lydia for the beta read, I'm natsinator on twitter, javert on tumblr, original fiction at bit.ly/shadowofheaven or bit.ly/arcadispark


	10. Let This Radicalize You Rather Than Lead You to Despair

_ July 792 U.C., Heinessen _

Reinhard and Annerose went home over winter break together, making their way through the blustery Wrightsville streets side by side. They were both in good spirits, having finished their respective semesters easily. Reinhard’s hair was coming back in a bit, now, but he had to wear his uniform beanie in order to prevent his scalp from freezing in the wet winter air.

It was odd, this feeling of returning home. He hadn’t thought himself particularly attached to the crumbling bricks and crooked streets of Wrightsville, but he found an unexpected joy in recognition as they walked home, turning corners and seeing familiar buildings and signages.

Annerose sighed a little as they came close to their apartment. “Weird to think that this is the last time I’ll be living here,” she said.

“You aren’t going to miss it, though,” Reinhard said. “I don’t think you’ve missed it while at school. It won’t be any different when you graduate.”

“You think I didn’t miss you and mom while I was at school?” she asked, looking over at him as she unlocked the outer building door.

“I suppose I was making an assumption. You always seemed like you were doing fine without me. You still do.”

She nudged his shoulder with her own. “You’re very silly.”

They trooped up the stairs. “Give me the over/under on her being awake.”

“Don’t be mean,” Annerose said. “She has a delicate constitution.”

“Alright, alright.” Reinhard unlocked the door to their apartment and went in, finding it completely dark. “Mom?” he called as he flipped on the light.

The kitchen was much as he remembered it, but the living room had an interesting new feature: the shrine that had formerly occupied the top of their mother’s dresser now took up the entire coffee table, which had been pushed against the wall, while the couch had been moved into the center of the room. On the wall was a large banner, which read ‘EARTH IS MY MOTHER. TERRA IN MY HAND.’

“Mama?” Annerose asked, heading towards their mother’s bedroom. She pushed the door open and found it empty.

“She knew we were coming home, right?”

“Yes, of course she did,” Annerose said. “I spoke to her on the phone last night.”

“Hmph.” Reinhard sat down on the out of place couch, not liking the new vantage point on the room that it provided. “I guess it was preemptive of me to think that nothing would have changed.”

“You can’t blame her for wanting to use more of the apartment, now that we’re gone,” Annerose said. “There’s no reason she needs to stay in her bedroom all the time.”

“You think she was just giving us space before?” Reinhard asked.

“It’s the generous interpretation,” Annerose said. “And I think a fair one. She does love you, you know.”

“I know.” Reinhard contemplated the banner. “That is weird, though.”

“Why?” Annerose asked.

“I don’t understand what she sees in it.”

“You don’t?” Annerose asked. “I’d think it’s fairly obvious.”

Reinhard tilted his head. “Enlighten me?”

“Think about it from her perspective.” Annerose stared at the banner, sitting down on the couch next to him. “You’re an ill woman who’s fled your home, you know no one, have no real ties to anything except your children, and you’re probably a bit depressed. You find out about this thing that tells you that you have a community, and a homeland, and a place to make your life better-- why wouldn’t you join it?” 

“Because it’s nonsense?”

Annerose nudged him. “People love things that give them a sense of meaning. You know that. The meaning doesn’t even have to be a good one. It just has to be something they feel like they can… be a part of, I suppose.”

Reinhard frowned. “Still.”

“You should just consider yourself lucky that you feel like you have a purpose already.”

“And how would you know anything about that?”

Annerose rolled her eyes. “You really should know better than to think I’m stupid, by now,” she said. “You live your life consumed by it. I’d have to be blind not to see it.”

“It’s not the same as that.” He nodded at the banner. He wished that they could turn the couch around, so that they didn’t have to face it, but there was no point in upsetting their mother while they were just home for a little while.

“No, you’re right,” she said. “But some people are more susceptible to different kinds of purposes than others.”

“And what are you susceptible to?”

Annerose smiled at him and stood up. “I have no idea.” He suspected that this was a lie. “I’m going to go unpack, instead of contemplating religion. Don’t give yourself a headache over this.”

“I won’t,” Reinhard said, though he continued to stare at the banner, considering it. He didn’t think his mother was a stupid woman, so there must be something to this that he just didn’t understand. What Annerose had said about purpose, he knew was true. It was what had pushed Kaiser Rudolph to power: the sense of purpose that he gave to the nation. But he couldn’t imagine being the type who would fall into following something, especially not something incorporeal. Kaiser Rudolph, and everyone who had ever been like him, had at least had something real to give people.

He bit his finger, feeling discomfited by his own lack of understanding.

Their mother came home a bit later and greeted them warmly. There had been enough food in the cupboards for Annerose to get a dinner going, and she had also run down to the liquor store to buy a bottle of wine. They sat around the kitchen table and Annerose doled out the casserole she had made.

“What are you celebrating?” Caribelle asked, glancing at the unopened wine bottle on the counter. “Just being home?”

“Reinhard is sure that when final grades are posted at midnight, he’ll have claimed the number one spot in the freshman class,” Annerose said with a knowing smile.

“Oh, good for you,” Caribelle said. “Don’t let it become a habit, though.”

“I’m sure we won’t, mama,” Annerose said. 

“And don’t be too loud when you stay up late, alright? I have a headache.”

“We won’t, I promise.”

“Where were you when we got back?” Reinhard asked. “I figured you would be home.”

“I was out with my church group,” she said. “Were you waiting for me long?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Reinhard said. “I was just wondering.” 

“Do you like spending time with them?” Annerose asked.

“Of course I do.” She smiled, rather wistfully. “You might meet them while you’re here. I’ve been running a prayer group a few times a week.”

“Really?” Reinhard asked. “Is that why the living room is like that?”

“Do you not like the change?”

“It’s your house,” Reinhard said. “Annerose and I hardly even live here anymore.”

Caribelle sighed and looked at her children, a kind of rueful expression on her face. “I know. I have such an empty nest.”

“Why do you run a prayer group, mama?” Annerose asked, bringing the conversation back.

Caribelle looked at her, a tiny smile on her face. “You’re not the only one who discovered that she has a taste for leadership, you know. The bishop was looking for volunteers, and I wanted to get more involved.” She smoothed down her skirt. “I enjoy it, besides.”

Reinhard and Annerose glanced at each other. “Forgive me if this is a rude question,” Reinhard said.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Caribelle said.

“What are you gaining here?”

She laughed a little. “Not everything can be measured like that. You could come to worship and see for yourself.” 

“No, thanks,” Reinhard said.

“I understand. You’ve always been much more worldly than I ever was.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Is a mother not allowed to make observations about her children?”

“Alright, alright,” Reinhard said.

After a moment of silence, Caribelle said, “I suppose, if I tried to explain how it makes me feel, it’s like-- I’ve spent my whole life dreaming and waiting for I don’t know what, and suddenly I’ve found something that’s woken me up.”

“Why this, though?”

“You will think me stupid if I say that I genuinely believe that the way to heal the human race is to return to our physical and spiritual homeland,” Caribelle said.

“But you do believe that?” Annerose asked.

“Yes,” Caribelle said. “I do.”

They talked about other things after that, though Reinhard couldn’t quite get his mother’s words out of his head. It was odd for him to consider that she, too, had a desire to change the course of human history. If he looked at it that way, he could almost understand it. But then he looked at it, and the beliefs and their goals made no sense to him. His mother went to bed shortly after they finished eating, which left Annerose and Reinhard to retreat to their own bedroom with the bottle of wine, neither of them having any desire to sit in the living room beneath their mother’s banner.

Reinhard sat on the floor, on his bedspread that he had laid out, and Annerose sat on the bed. They were both moderately tipsy by time midnight approached, whispering to each other in a way they hadn’t since they were both much younger. Reinhard was feeling odd and nostalgic, and he suspected that Annerose was feeling the same. They weren’t going to have many opportunities to do this in the future, and now that Reinhard was in the academy, they felt more on equal footing than they had in years. He knew that Annerose had never considered herself superior, but Reinhard couldn’t help but feel jealous that she had been having experiences that were barred to him. Now that they were in the same place, it felt like the world had returned to its natural order.

“Are you looking forward to your practical course?” he asked.

Annerose tipped her wine around in her cup. “It’s not as though I didn’t spend all of last summer, and the one before it, up in space. I’m familiar with it already.”

“That just means you’ll be better at it than everyone else,” Reinhard said. “But that didn’t answer the question.”

“I suppose I am,” she said. “But it’s a long month to be away.”

“Did Schenkopp do the practical course? I don’t remember you mentioning it.”

“Non-traditional students are exempt,” Annerose said. “Since they already have experience.”

“I see.”

“It will be interesting,” Annerose said. “I’ve heard good things about it.”

“I wish I could come with you.”

She looked at him with a kind of wistful smile. “You know what, maybe someday we’ll be on the same ship together. You can be the captain.”

“And what will you be? I don’t want to think that I could get above you. You’re better than that, and you have me at an advantage.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Annerose said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But you’ve decided that you want to go to space when you graduate?”

“I don’t get a say,” Annerose said. “I think Cazerne is going to grab me.” She took a sip of her wine. “He’s invited us to his house over break, for dinner.”

“Oh, I look forward to it.”

“I don’t want to think that I’m somehow taking advantage, by being social with him.”

“I don’t think so at all,” Reinhard said. “On the contrary, if the summer program is to form connections, then that’s an unmitigated success.”

“Still.” Annerose poured herself another half-glass of wine. “Oh, it’s midnight. Grades should be posted by now, if you really want to see.” 

“I do,” Reinhard said.

“You won’t throw a fit if you’re not first, right?”

“I have nothing if not exquisite self control,” Reinhard said. “Besides, I will be first.”

Annerose smiled a little. “Alright.”

Reinhard opened his computer and navigated to the ancient website where grades were posted. He opened his first semester transcript, scrolled past all his grades, and sought out the little class rank indicator. The number there burned him to his core, and he scowled and slapped his computer shut, tossing it heavily onto his pillow.

“Exquisite self control indeed,” Annerose said.

“Shut up.” Reinhard took a gulp of his wine and regretted it. He did manage to resist the temptation to throw his cup on the floor. He wasn’t a toddler having a temper tantrum.

“You’re number two?” Annerose asked.

“I don’t understand,” Reinhard said with a scowl. “I have a perfect score in all my classes, and all freshmen take the same number and type of classes. Even if there was somehow a tie, there shouldn’t physically be a way for anyone to get ahead of me.”

“Mmm,” Annerose said. Reinhard glared at her. “What?” she asked.

“You know something about this?”

“Maybe.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Who’s number one, then?”

“How would I know?” Annerose was definitely hiding something. She could pretend all she wanted, but Reinhard could see right through her.

“You suspect you know who it is.” He ran through the list of freshmen that Annerose was likely to know, and came up with a very small selection. “It’s one of your women’s society people? How?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“Find out,” Reinhard demanded. “I need to know.”

“Alright, alright,” Annerose said, pulling out her phone. “I’ll text who I think it might be.”

“Call her.”

“At midnight? Besides, mom’s asleep and I don’t want to wake her up with the noise.”

Reinhard glared at her as she tapped out a message and sent it. Her phone buzzed back a few seconds later. Annerose smiled slightly at the message, but then hid her smile when she saw Reinhard’s stormy expression once again. “Were your suspicions correct?”

“Yes, they were.” Annerose said.

“And who is it?” Reinhard asked.

“Ms. Greenhill, who you were so rude to.”

“I wasn’t rude to her.”

“You weren’t?”

Reinhard just scowled. “And how did she beat me?”

“She takes calculus with Professor Stanislaw,” Annerose said. “And she asked me if it was worth staying for his extra ‘math club’ that he holds after class. I told her yes, because I personally find Stanislaw a very interesting man. Anyway, he apparently offered everyone who attended his club regularly a credit of Topics in Mathematics. So she earned one extra credit. That’s all.” Annerose took a sip of her wine. “I’m sorry that you’re disappointed.”

“I’ll beat her next semester.” He was furious at Annerose, but he tried to keep that out of his voice, rather unsuccessfully.

“You know, I think this proves that she’s worth being friends with,” Annerose said.

Reinhard fumed silently.

“You will survive not being on top of everything for one single semester,” she said.

“I can’t believe you would do that to me.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Annerose asked. “Besides, the whole point of the women’s society is for us to help each other. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t joined it, so it wouldn’t be fair for me to not be generous to the underclassmen.” She shrugged. “And there was nothing I could have done for you, anyway, since you don’t even have Stanislaw as your professor.”

“You could have warned me.”

“I think that’s an unreasonable thing for you to want.”

Reinhard scowled even more deeply, then finished his glass of wine. He gathered Annerose’s empty cup and took the dishes into the kitchen, dropping them a little too heavily into the sink. There was a part of him that knew he was behaving unreasonably, but the larger part of him didn’t care. He retreated into the bathroom to brush his teeth, staring at his own furious expression in the mirror, hating his shaved head. Instead of returning to the bedroom he shared with Annerose, he flopped down on the living room couch.

“Are you really so mad at me that you’re going to sleep out here?” Annerose asked when she walked past him in the dark room.

Reinhard didn’t gratify her with a response, instead tucking his arm underneath his head, pouting, and closing his eyes. He heard Annerose sigh deeply, do her nighttime ablutions, then return to their bedroom, shutting the door behind her. In the near-complete darkness, Reinhard was forced to stare at his mother’s banner until he fell asleep. 

EARTH IS MY MOTHER. TERRA IN MY HAND.

* * *

_ August 792 U.C., Heinessen _

Reinhard’s annoyances had mostly calmed down by the time that he returned to school for the spring semester. He could hold grudges for an absurdly long time, it was true, but not against Annerose. He suspected that she had him beat, in that respect.

Unfortunately for Reinhard, he was forcibly reminded of his status as second in the class on his first day back, when he sat down in his elective, Mathematical Methods in Economics. He was right in the front, and a couple minutes early, so when Greenhill came in, she spotted him immediately and took a seat next to him. Well, not directly next to him; she sat one empty seat away, but Reinhard was reasonably sure that no one else would take the seat in between.

He didn’t acknowledge her at first, but then she leaned over the armrest and smiled at him. “Hi Reinhard,” she said.

“Fredrica.”

“Did you have a good winter solstice?”

“It was fine.” He paused, then grudgingly asked, “You?”

“Good. My mom and I went to see my grandparents. It was nice.”

“Your dad is…”

“Not divorced,” she said. “Just in space right now.”

Reinhard nodded. “I suppose I should congratulate you.”

“On my parents being together?” Greenhill seemed legitimately confused. “I’m sorry about yours.”

Reinhard gave her a flat and annoyed look. “No, at being number one.”

She laughed, a cheerful and bright sound. “Oh, that! I’m sure it won’t last. Next year everyone will be able to take more classes, and I don’t intend to overload myself, so…” She shrugged, but looked at him with a kind of sneaking expression. “Your sister texted me about it.”

“I know. I told her to.”

“Why?”

“She said she thought you might be the number one, and I wanted to confirm that.”

“You could have texted me yourself.”

“I don’t have your number.”

This was clearly the opportunity that Fredrica was looking for, because she scribbled her phone number on a sheet of her notebook and ripped it out to hand to Reinhard. He took it with two fingers, then folded it crisply and tucked it into his pocket. They probably would have continued speaking, but the professor had come into the lecture hall and class was beginning.

After class, Reinhard gathered up his belongings and left, but found Greenhill tagging along after him. “Do you have class right now?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“Want to get some lunch?”

“My sister isn’t here for you to make happy,” Reinhard pointed out. “She’s taking the practical course right now.”

“You are aware that some people can do things without their reason for them being to please Annerose,” Greenhill said. “It’s lunchtime. We’re probably going to both eat anyway, so why don’t we go together?”

“If you insist.”

They walked to the dining hall together without speaking, and Reinhard resisted the temptation to look at her. Though he was done being annoyed at Annerose, he couldn’t help but feel miffed about Greenhill, who may have been pretending that the number one spot was meaningless, but he could tell by the way that the corners of her eyes had twitched when he mentioned it that she actually was quite pleased.

The dining hall was fairly crowded at this time of day, so they ended up off in a far corner, at a table that was smaller than Reinhard would have preferred. He ate his sandwich in silence for a few minutes, while Greenhill ate her pizza.

“What did you sign up for Math Models for?” Greenhill asked him after a few minutes.

“I have an interest in economics as a subject,” Reinhard said. “And that’s a prerequisite for the Economic Game Theory course, which I actually want to take.”

“Why do you want to take that?”

“Because the Strategic Game Theory class is for seniors only,” Reinhard said. “And I’m sure that the mathematical basis for both classes is the same, even if the subject is different on the surface.”

“You think it will give you an advantage when you take the senior course?”

“I’m interested in learning things that will give me an advantage in life,” Reinhard said sharply. “School is just a stepping stone.”

“I see.”

“Why are you in the class?”

“My calculus professor from last semester recommended it to me,” she said with a shrug. “And it seemed like a fine elective choice.”

“Do you know anything about economics?” Reinhard asked. Although it was a genuine question, he realized belatedly that he came off a bit snide.

Greenhill didn’t seem to mind his tone. “A little. I took a class in high school, but that was high school. You?”

“I’ve studied it.” He paused, then decided if he was going to be having lunch with Greenhill, he might as well actually have a real conversation. She wasn’t stupid, after all. “I think it’s going to be a more important subject to know about than most people realize, in the next few decades.”

Greenhill looked at him curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“The war with the Empire isn’t going to last forever,” Reinhard said.

“You’re hoping for peace?”

“I think the Empire will be defeated. If you call that peace.”

She looked at him, her mouth pinched into a thin line. “And why do you think that?”

Reinhard decided that it wasn’t judicious at that moment to describe his intention to personally bring down the Empire, so instead he said, “The Goldenbaum dynasty is a husk of what it once was, and the Kaiser doesn’t have a clear successor. It’s likely that the whole thing is going to be thrown into chaos when he finally dies. If people can take advantage of that once in a generation opening, the Alliance will have a chance to end the war.”

“That’s an optimistic reading of the situation.”

“What are you doing here if you don’t think that victory is possible?” Reinhard asked, quite derisively.

“I was on El Facil,” Greenhill said. “I have a vested interest in protecting us from invasion, so that nothing like that can happen again.”

“I see,” Reinhard said. He took a second look at her. “You don’t seem too scarred by the experience.”

Greenhill’s expression darkened. “My mother and I were lucky enough to get out.”

Reinhard nodded. “I’m glad.”

She stared slightly into space. “I don’t know if I am. It could have gone so differently.”

“Survivor’s guilt is normal.”

“Maybe. Though you wouldn’t know.” Some bitterness had crept into her voice.

Reinhard offered her an olive branch. “You’re not the only one who’s fled from the Empire,” he said, fiddling with his locket. “I often wonder what life would have been like, if I had stayed.”

Greenhill’s expression softened. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine.” He twisted the chain of his locket around his finger. “It’s something that shaped me and gave me a purpose, which is better than the alternative.”

“The alternative?”

“Death or despair,” Reinhard said. “Though from where I stand today, those seem almost equally bad.”

“I wish I could be so confidently the same,” Greenhill said. “Well, regardless…” She watched him tug on his locket some more for a silent second. “You didn’t tell me why you think that knowing economics will be more important than it is currently.”

Reinhard was glad to get the topic back to something practical and well understood. “The entire Alliance economy, since the day of its founding, has been built around being at war. When that war is over…” He shrugged. “Just like the transition between kaisers will be a dangerous time for the Empire, the shift from a wartime to a peacetime economy is a period that will be easy to take advantage in.” 

“That’s a long way away.”

“I can guarantee that people who want to gain power are already looking at how to turn the situation to their advantage.”

“Like you?”

“Unfortunately,” Reinhard said with a kind of wry smile, “having some capital is rather a requirement when it comes to making economic plans. And I lack that completely.”

“If you had money, where would you be investing it?” Greenhill asked. “You’re making me curious.”

“That depends on a lot of things. But I’m not really interested in making money. I’m more interested in the new social order that’s going to come about.” 

“New social order?”

“Rudolph von Goldenbaum emerged in peacetime, is I suppose all I’m saying.”

“Not a pleasant thought.”

“It’s idle speculation now, anyway,” Reinhard said. “Perhaps it’s best not to get invested in a certain image of the future.”

“I feel like you have a specific image in mind, though.”

“You are making assumptions,” Reinhard said.

“And what if I am?”

“It’s a dangerous thing to do, when you don’t know me at all.”

“That’s hardly my fault. We could get to know each other better.”

Reinhard huffed, suddenly annoyed again at her. “And what would the point of that be? For either of us?”

“I would like to be friends.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason? I’m not trying to get something out of you. I just think you’re interesting.”

“Everybody has a reason for doing things,” Reinhard said. 

“If you say so.” Greenhill seemed slightly disappointed, and she gathered up her belongings. “Well, I’ll see you around, Reinhard.”

“Yeah. See you.”

As she left, Reinhard found himself still feeling annoyed, though when he interrogated the feeling, he discovered it was directed less at her than it was at himself. He fiddled with his locket as he drank the last few sips of his coffee.

* * *

Although Greenhill had continued to sit next to Reinhard in their economics class, she didn’t attempt to speak to him again until two weeks later, when they both arrived to class early. She turned to him and smiled. “Hey, Reinhard,” she said.

Reinhard’s surprise that she was speaking to him again was enough to distract him from the slight happiness he felt that she was speaking to him, and he accidentally smiled a little, which in turn made Greenhill’s eyes light up. “Fredrica,” he said.

“Remember our conversation from a few weeks ago?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Well, I was talking to my dad about it on the phone the other day and--” She stopped when she saw Reinhard’s somewhat rueful expression. “What?”

“I wasn’t precisely on my best behavior during that conversation. I would be ashamed to learn that someone who might be my superior officer someday was learning of that.”

Greenhill lifted her chin slightly. “But you feel perfectly fine being rude to me when I might someday be your superior officer.”

Reinhard was caught so off guard by that that he laughed, and Greenhill smiled. “You know, that was as close to an apology as you were going to get, so you should have just taken it.”

Greenhill laughed, then. “Alright, I’ll accept your apology. But to soothe your worries: I didn’t mention your name, or that you were rude to me.”

“So what was there to talk about?”

“I mentioned what you thought about the economy changing in peacetime, and he told me to look up this article he had read on that subject. Anyway, I thought I’d show it to you, in case you were interested. Since we were talking about it.”

“Okay,” Reinhard said.

Greenhill pulled out her phone and handed it to him so that he could see the article in question. Reinhard stifled a laugh as he looked down at it: Greenhill was showing him his own blog post. It was entitled “If the War Ended Today: Some Speculative Economic Fictions” and began with this paragraph:

_ Last week, I had a very entertaining lunch with a coworker of mine, where we discussed, among other things, the possible economic consequences of the end of the war with the Galactic Empire. We have, after all, been living, since the founding of our nation, in an economy of perpetual war. I cannot pretend that I have not benefited, in a small way, from this economic footing: that is what this blog is about. Although it seems highly unlikely that the war with the Empire will end any time soon, and when it does, I am sure that the universe will be in a very different state, it is still entertaining to imagine what would happen if a switch were flipped tomorrow, and the whole universe had to go from a wartime to a peacetime economy. If you feel like indulging in that speculation, follow along. _

Reinhard passed her phone back as the professor entered the room. She kept glancing at him throughout class, and he wasn’t sure what that was about. The last third of class was taken up with the professor going over the first project that would be due that semester, which could be done in a group. Reinhard had been intending to work alone, but then realized that perhaps there had been a reason that Greenhill had been speaking to him and glancing at him. He frowned down at his notebook.

His foibles about this were beginning to feel very silly, even to him. If Greenhill had been Kircheis, he would have worked with her on the project with no hesitation, but Greenhill was not Kircheis. It felt odd and uncomfortable for him to consider placing Greenhill in the position that he felt should naturally belong to Kircheis. But Kircheis wasn’t here, and wasn’t going to be here, and maybe Annerose was right, and he  _ should  _ make an effort to make friends, and not just because they could do things for him. And even if it was just because they could do things for him-- well, if he had to have an ulterior motive, Greenhill was the number one in the class, and her father had a powerful position. He bit his finger and barely paid attention to class as he thought through all of this.

At the end of the lecture, as Reinhard was gathering his things, Greenhill said, “I’ll forward you that article if you want to read it.”

“Oh, sure,” Reinhard said, distracted enough by his own thoughts that he failed to realize that he should probably tell Greenhill that he was the one who wrote the article. “Fredrica,” he said, then paused. She turned to him.

“Yes?”

He clenched his fist in his pocket for a second, feeling very tense, then said in a bit of a rush, “Do you want to work on the project with me?”

She smiled. “I’d love to. Shall we discuss it over lunch?”

Reinhard felt immediately like he had trapped himself. “Sure.”

As they walked out, Greenhill said, “I did want to work on the project with you, but I figured that you might not want to, so I wasn’t going to ask.”

He frowned. Although she was completely correct-- if she had asked him, he probably would have rejected her outright on principle-- he didn’t like to admit that he was being stubborn and stupid for no reason. “I’m glad that you are interested,” he said instead, a concession that took quite a lot of effort to get out.

They ate lunch together and decided how to divide up the work for the project. It really was a simple thing, and either of them could have done the project alone without much effort. For once, Reinhard didn’t mind that the work was trivial; he was intending to repurpose most of his schoolwork for a “basics” tutorial section on his blog, anyway. The tutorial section was a side project he had started about a year and a half ago, originally intended just as personal documentation on how to use a specific type of modeling software for his own reference, but it had ended up driving more traffic to his website than anything else, which annoyed him enough to drop the project when he felt he had learned enough for himself to no longer need to write things down. Still, he had been getting a steady stream of requests for more entry level content since that time, and if he was going to be doing basic schoolwork, he might as well put it to dual use.

“I’ll have my part finished this weekend,” Reinhard said.

“That’s fast. You don’t have to rush.”

“I’m not rushing. There’s just no reason to wait.”

“If you say so,” Greenhill said, though she narrowed her eyes a little bit. Reinhard smiled. He had to wonder what she was going to do-- try to one up him and be faster? Say she was also done with her part at the same time as he was? Follow her own advice and not rush? Perhaps he shouldn’t be thinking of this as a trial for his association with her, but he couldn’t help it.

That weekend, Reinhard texted Greenhill.

>I finished my section if you want to look it over.

<Great! I’m done with mine, too

<I’ll send it to you

<We can meet up at lunch on Monday to discuss, if you want

>Sure.

So, she had finished hers quickly. Had she been waiting for him to send his? The mind game he was playing was simultaneously amusing and stupid. Unfortunately, this would be the end of the mind game, since he doubted that Greenhill would have much to say about his paper, which was boring in the extreme. His blog post on the subject, which he had made several days before, was more entertaining and detailed, but he had stripped most of that out for the paper.

When they met up at lunch on Monday, Greenhill seemed unamused, already waiting for him at a table in the dining hall, frowning as she looked out the window. Reinhard slid into the seat across from her. 

“Is something the matter?” he asked as he pulled her marked up half of the paper out of his bag and slid it across the table to her. He could see underneath her elbow that she had a printout of his paper, as well, though it lacked the conspicuous red pen marks that he had provided.

Greenhill looked up at him. “I did expect better of you than outright plagiarism,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?” Reinhard took a sip of his coffee. 

“Did you think that I wouldn’t notice that you copied your entire section of the paper from a website that I suggested that you read?” She slid her copy of his paper towards him, then lifted up a paperclipped section and showed him a printout of his own blog post. “I did a web search to confirm your math, and I found this.”

Reinhard hid a tiny smile behind his coffee cup as Greenhill ranted, pointing to various sections of his paper, which she had labeled, and then the corresponding sections of his website post. “It’s not word for word, but it is really just rephrased. And the graphs are identical. All you did was change the colors.”

She glared at him. “Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?” Her glare deepened when she saw his amused expression.

“I’m glad to see that you have integrity,” Reinhard said. “However, there’s no need for concern.”

“There isn’t?”

“I wrote that, too,” Reinhard said. “That’s my personal website.”

“I have heard a lot of lies in my life, but none quite so bold as that one.”

“I’m not sure what benefit you think I’d get out of lying,” Reinhard said.

“You expect me to believe that you have been consistently updating a website on economic theory since you were thirteen?”

“The older posts are really bad,” Reinhard said. “I probably should go back and delete them.”

“Then who is Marian Evans?” She tapped the author’s name on the website.

“A famous novelist who very famously used a pen name,” Reinhard said. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me borrowing hers. Annerose suggested it.”

“The writing here doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Of course it doesn’t.” Reinhard’s tone was derisive. “When I was thirteen, I came up with a writing persona that I thought would be taken seriously. I’ve stuck with it for consistency.”

“You’re going to have to prove this to me,” Fredrica said, though her tone had changed from completely accusatory to mostly curious.

“If you insist.” Reinhard pulled out his own phone and opened to his website, then showed her that he could log in to the back end and edit a post.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? Was it funny to you that I told you to read your own writing?”

“I was mostly distracted by other things. It’s not like it’s a secret or anything.”

“If I were a less generous person, I’d say that you were having a good laugh at my expense.”

“Thank you for being generous, then.” He paused for a second. “You said your father showed you my website?”

“Yeah.”

“How did he find it?”

“A friend of his, Captain Cazerne, recommended it.”

Reinhard laughed. “Oh, okay then.”

“Why is that funny?”

“I know Captain Cazerne. I’ve been to his house several times. Annerose worked under him in the Student Officer Training Program, in her first year.”

Greenhill laughed. “Small world.”

“I suppose it is.”

Greenhill still frowned a little though, as she looked down at Reinhard’s paper. “This is still a problem, though.”

“Why?”

“It still looks like plagiarism. And even if it doesn’t, I think your prose could use some improvement.”

“My prose is fine!” Reinhard protested. “I’m not trying to win a literary award.”

“Still, one should always take any opportunity for improvement that exists.

* * *

_ December 792 U.C., Heinessen _

The weather was getting much warmer, signaling that the upcoming summer was going to be a scorcher. Reinhard and Fredrica were sitting together beneath a huge tree on the green outside the freshman dorms in the last gasps of afternoon light, with their finals study materials arrayed out around them on the grass, though neither of them were paying much attention to their books. Fredrica was looking up at the sky.

“Think it’s going to thunder?” she asked.

The clouds were heavy above them, and there was the smell of rain on the wind. “Probably,” Reinhard said. “Why do you ask?”

“I like lightning storms,” she said.

“Hunh.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t know what they do for me, either way,” Reinhard said.

“I thought you would like the spectacle of it all.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Maybe?”

“Talking too nicely about the spectacle of nature makes me feel like my mother,” Reinhard said, pulling up a handful of grass.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot she was into that.”

“I try to pay as little attention to it as possible,” Reinhard said. “Easier, now that I’m out of the house. It’s fine, I suppose. If it makes her happy, I shouldn’t care. I just find the whole thing incomprehensible.”

“Yeah.” Fredrica slapped a hand down onto the pages of her textbook as a strong gust of wind started to lose her place. “Feel ready for tomorrow’s final?”

“Of course.”

“You going to beat me?”

“Of course.”

“I suppose we’ll have to see if your confidence is warranted.”

“I’ve never had unwarranted confidence in my life.”

Their conversation lapsed, and they both returned to studying, as much as they could, anyway, while their notebooks attempted to blow away in the wind, and the light grew feebler and feebler, in the murky pre-thunderstorm air. Fredrica was paying more attention to it than Reinhard was, as he had taken his phone out and was typing a few notes for an upcoming post he was planning for his website. He failed to notice when the rain started, shielded as they both were by the thick greenery above them, until it was coming down in a veritable curtain outside the tree’s canopy. Fredrica sat with her elbows on her knees, staring out at it, paying no heed to drops of water that the wind tossed in at her, or the way that all her papers, held down with rocks, fluttered wildly and threatened escape. Reinhard only looked up from his typing when the first flash of lightning split the sky, followed a good fifteen seconds later by a boom of thunder that echoed between the campus buildings. He wrinkled his nose.

“You should have told me to start packing up, so we wouldn’t have to get wet.”

“Are you going to melt?” Fredrica asked. “We could stay here.”

“If you love lightning so much that you want to die by being struck by it, you’re welcome to remain under a tree during a thunderstorm,” Reinhard said, gathering his belongings and tucking them into his bag. “I have no such intention.”

“What would your sister say, if she found my crispy corpse?”

“I have no idea,” Reinhard said. “Come on.” He stood up, finding his leg dead asleep, and stumbled a little. Fredrica offered him her shoulder to lean on for a second while he shook his leg out, grimacing at the pins and needles. “Shall we make a run for it?”

“We’ll have to.”

Lightning flashed across the sky again, and the thunder was closer, this time. They glanced at each other as they stood at the edge of the tree’s leaves, then on an unspoken signal, began running headlong across the wide open field. They were completely soaked almost immediately, and it took them almost a minute of running full speed to reach the door to Reinhard’s dorm. He let them both into the building, and they trudged up the steps to his room.

“Are you following me for a reason?” Reinhard asked.

“I thought we were going to keep studying. Or just hanging out.”

“It will be hard if you’re soaking wet.”

She shrugged as he unlocked the door. His roommates were mercifully all gone. Reinhard didn’t like them, so having some peace and quiet without them was quite nice. His wet shoes squelched on the carpet, and he took them off before he stepped further in. Fredrica did the same when he glared at her. He had no desire to get his room muddy.

“Here,” he said, tossing her one of his towels. “It’s clean.”

“Much obliged,” she said, and towelled off her hair, which was hanging in wet strings down her face. His hair wasn’t in much better of a state, and when she had finished drying her hair, he did the same thing to his. Both of their outfits were dripping onto the carpet. He pulled one of his uniforms out of his closet, hanger and all, and handed it to her.

“Borrow that,” he said. “So you’re not getting water all over everything. You’re not that much shorter than me.”

“And you’re going to stand there soaking wet?”

“No,” Reinhard said. He turned his back towards her and started pulling off his uniform, dropping it into his laundry basket. He was in his underwear for a second, then retrieved his pyjama pants from his trunk and pulled them on. He hadn’t heard Fredrica moving around behind him, so he asked, “Can I turn around?”

“Oh, er, one second,” she said, stammering slightly, and then he did hear her pull off her wet clothes and put on his dry ones. Reinhard stood there with his arms crossed over his bare chest. “Okay, I’m decent,” she said.

Decent was a strong word, since she hadn’t buttoned the uniform all the way, and it hung loosely over her, revealing her bra. Reinhard didn’t really care, though, and just sat down on his desk chair. She pulled over one of his roommates’ chairs and sat down next to him as he opened his backpack and tried to sort out the damp from the dry in there. She did the same with hers, and after a minute they were vainly arraying out their sheets of notes across the desks, trying to position them with maximum surface area up to try.

“Sorry for making us get wet,” Fredrica said.

“It’s fine. Don’t you have a perfect memory anyway? I don’t see why you need to take notes, and it won’t matter if these are ruined.”

“It’s important,” she said. “I don’t want to get lazy.”

“Hah.” Reinhard glanced down at his phone, which was flashing with a notification. He looked at it. “Oh, look, the placements for the summer program came in.”

“Really?” Fredrica scrambled for her own phone. “I’m so nervous.”

“Why?” Reinhard asked. “You’re definitely going to get one.”

Fredrica handed him her phone. “You look at it and tell me if it’s good or not.”

Reinhard took the phone. “You have eyes.”

She huffed. “Can’t you just play along? It’s more fun to hear the news from someone else than it is to just read an email.”

“Oh, alright. Here.” He passed her his phone. “You tell me what I got, then.”

She grinned at him, took his phone, and opened the email. Reinhard did the same with hers. “Do you want me to tell you first?” she asked.

“Up to you.”

“Okay, I’ll read yours first,” Fredrica said. “Dear Mr. von Müsel, we are pleased to announce…” She skimmed the letter. “You have been assigned a position this summer in the Heinessen Starzone Fleet Port Alpha, working with Lieutenant Commander Amarri Sanchez. Lieutenant Commander Sanchez is involved in ship retrofit and repair.” Fredrica hummed under her breath to indicate she was skimming the letter. “There’s travel information attached. Looks like a good posting. Sweet that you get to go to space.”

“Don’t get to leave the starzone, though, which is too bad.”

“Don’t get greedy,” she said. “It’s not like they’re going to send students to the front lines. Okay, now you read mine.”

“Dear Ms. Greenhill,” Reinhard read. “We are pleased to announce that your application to the Student Officer Training Program has been accepted, and that you have been assigned a position this summer working in the military affairs headquarters, reporting to Captain Francis Burke. Captain Burke performs duties related to strategic fleet deployment.” Reinhard put her phone down on the desk between them and leaned back in his seat. “That’s exciting,” he said. “Congratulations.”

Fredrica was smiling broadly. “Yes, it is.” She leaned forward towards him. “Shall we celebrate our postings?”

“Sure,” Reinhard said with his own smile. “How shall we celebrate?”

“Like this,” Fredrica said. Then she was leaning towards him faster than he could react, placing her hand on his bare chest and her mouth to his.

Reinhard shoved himself backwards in his chair, then stood up so violently that he knocked it over backwards, stumbling in his haste to get away.

Fredrica was covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck?!” Reinhard demanded, clutching his locket. “Why did you do that?”

“I thought--”

“I told you that I didn’t--”

“I know! I’m sorry! I just--”

“Gods above, Fredrica!” Reinhard swore. His heart was beating strangely and he turned away from her, fingers twisting into the chain of his locket. He leaned his head on the cold metal bedframe of his bunkbed, the chill of it grounding him for a second.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and he could hear her stand up and start shoving damp papers back into her bag. “I’ll go.” She headed for the door. “I’ll give you your uniform back tomorrow.”

He heard the door open, and suddenly he was struck by the thought that he was about three seconds away from losing the only friend he had at the academy. His thoughts were tumbling all over in his head, but he was actually strangely comforted by two facts.

First: this reassured him that Fredrica was not going to replace Kircheis in his life, since that brief kiss had been wholly unpleasant and unwanted, and he had no desire to repeat it whatsoever.

Second: she definitely wasn’t going to try that again.

“Wait, Fredrica,” he said as she stepped out of the doorway. She paused and looked at him. “You forgot your physics textbook,” he said lamely. He picked it up off the desk where it had been tossed and held it out.

She looked at the book in his hand and was forced to step back into the room, letting the door swing shut behind her. “Thanks,” she muttered as she took it. “Sorry.”

Reinhard brushed his still-damp bangs out of his eyes. “Look, Fredrica, you’re not going to do that again, right?”

“No, really, I am sorry,” she said. “I promise.”

“Okay. Then we can just forget about it, alright?” Although he had clenched his fist around his locket in anticipation that it would be hard to get the words out, he discovered that it was less difficult than he had thought, and there wasn’t much bitterness in his voice. Just relief.

Fredrica stood there rather awkwardly as Reinhard bent down and picked up the chair that he had knocked over. “Do you want me to go?” she asked.

“Er.” Reinhard hadn’t actually thought that far into the conversation. He prolonged things by sitting down before asking, “Do you want to leave?”

Fredrica shrugged, looking extremely miserable.

Reinhard gestured to the other desk chair, indicating that she could sit if she wanted to, and she did after a further long second of hesitation. Reinhard crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on his desk and his chin on his hand, contemplating her. She withered under his gaze, even though he wasn’t trying to be aggressive with it. He was mostly just curious now.

“Why did you do that?” he asked after a moment.

She flushed, her entire face going quite red. “Why do you think?”

“I have no idea, which is why I’m asking.”

“Because I like you-- and I thought that you liked me.” She didn’t meet his eyes. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

“I told you that I was spoken for, though,” Reinhard said. “When we met.”

“I assumed you were trying to get rid of me then,” Fredrica muttered. “You never mentioned her again. I thought she didn’t actually exist.”

A flush crept up on Reinhard’s own cheeks, then, and he turned away. He would address that in a minute. “And what made you think that I was interested in you like that?”

“Because we spend so much time together, I don’t know. You smile when you look at me.” She stared down at the floor. “You let me into your room, and then took off all your clothes. That’s not nothing. It felt like an invitation.”

“I apologize for behaving in a way that could be seen as improprietous,” Reinhard said. He pushed his hair out of his eyes again. “Perhaps it’s absurd for me to say, but I had completely forgotten.”

“Forgotten what, exactly?” She was defensive, now, and as she crossed her arms, she suddenly realized that the borrowed shirt she was wearing was still half unbuttoned, and she fastened it up the rest of the way hastily.

“I respect you as a peer,” Reinhard said. “So I was behaving the way I feel like I would with any of my equals. The idea that you were a woman and I am a man had simply not crossed my mind.” When Fredrica looked rather insulted, he tacked on, “Enough to change my behavior, anyway.”

“I see.”

“Did you think that I was trying to take advantage of you?”

She frowned. “I don’t know what I thought.” She looked over the top of his head, out the slim window where rain was still coming down in sheets. “You must really love your girlfriend, if you’re at a school where there’s one woman for every twelve men, and one of those women is interested in you, and you don’t do anything about it.”

“I told you to ask Anneorse about it.”

“I assumed you were just trying to use me as a tool to get her to stop bothering you.”

“Maybe I was,” Reinhard said. “But she probably would have actually told you about me.” He fiddled with his locket.

“Will you tell me what she’s like, then?” Fredrica asked, a curious edge in her voice.

“He,” Reinhard said after a long second. “I suppose I trust you not to betray my confidences.”

“What?” She stiffened a little, clearly surprised. Reinhard gauged her reaction, then continued.

“His name is Siegfried Kircheis. He lives on Odin. I haven’t seen him in six years.”

“Oh my God. I didn’t realize.” Her hands dropped to her lap, as though strings in them had been cut.

“And why should you have?”

“I don’t know.” This revelation seemed to relax her, even though she was still clearly embarrassed about her mistake. “I guess I just thought-- I mean, you go to the women’s society events.”

“Because Annerose tells me to.” He tilted his head, a wry expression on his face. “Most of the other guys who come are far more blatant about their reasons for attending social events that your club puts on.”

“And you just hang out at the food table until someone comes to talk to you,” Fredrica said, and actually laughed a little. “I see.”

“If I’m being made to attend a party, the least I can do is enjoy the food.”

“I really am sorry about making a mess of this.”

“It’s fine. As long as we understand each other now.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you upset?”

“I don’t know,” Fredrica said. “Disappointed, maybe.”

“I really don't see why.”

“Now you’re fishing for compliments.”

“Compliment me, then,” he said.

“You’re extremely good looking, and smart, and you did really help me out, once.”

“I thought you said you could have taken care of that yourself.”

She frowned. “Yes, well, it still shows something about your character.”

He laughed, then stood. She looked at him curiously as he walked towards his closet, ducked inside of it, then reached above his head, feeling around for the object hidden up there, taped to the wall, almost completely out of sight. His fingers found the bottle, and he detached it from its hiding place. He held it up to show her. “Did you still want to celebrate our summer postings?”

“I can’t believe you’re hiding contraband in here,” she said. 

“Hiding contraband, admitting to proclivities that would get me into trouble, having a woman change clothes in my dorm room-- there are many inappropriate things happening here. Is that a yes or a no?”

“This is you saying that you’re not upset with me?”

“I’m the calmest person in the world,” Reinhard said. “Besides, Annerose would be mad at me if I managed to chase away the only friend I have here.”

“You only keep me around for Annerose’s benefit?”

“And I, too, would be the lesser for losing a friend.” He pulled two mugs out of his desk drawer, ones he usually used for instant coffee when he was up late at night, and poured a generous splash of vodka in each cup. “I would hope you feel the same way.” He held out one of the mugs towards her, and she hesitantly took it. He returned the bottle to its hiding place, then sat back down.

“To our summer placements,” Reinhard said, holding up his mug. Fredrica knocked her mug against his.

“To making a fool of myself.”

“Cheers.” He drank, the alcohol burning his mouth. It wasn’t very good, but he didn’t have anything to mix it with. He didn’t let his distaste show on his face. Fredrica took a huge mouthful and gulped, making a slightly pained expression as it went down. 

After a moment of silence, Fredrica said, “Tell me about Seigfried?”

Reinhard was immediately defensive, but Fredrica’s tone was melancholy and curious, which calmed him. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Anything. What does he look like?”

Reinhard stared into space as he conjured up Kircheis’s image in his memory. “He’s taller than I am. The first thing anyone sees about him is his red hair-- it’s just like a fire, but it’s soft. And he has blue eyes. A pretty face.” It felt odd to be speaking to anyone about Kircheis like this, but not entirely bad. It wasn’t something he could talk to Annerose about-- she still didn’t understand and didn’t approve, even if she was willing to ignore it-- so he hadn’t spoken to anyone. How strange it was, to say anything. It was like giving his memory of Kircheis a new life, putting him out into a world that he was a stranger to. He fiddled with his locket. 

“Go on,” Fredrica said.

“I can’t believe you want to hear about this.”

She took another, smaller, sip of her drink. “It’s a side of you I didn’t know about until just now. I can’t help but be curious. You don’t have to tell me anything.” She didn’t quite look at him, and instead tipped her mug around in her hands. 

“I guess it won’t surprise you if I tell you I was really rude to him when we first met,” Reinhard said with a bit of a laugh.

“Why, how old were you?”

“Six.”

“And how did you insult him?”

“I told him his first name was too common sounding. I still think of him as Kircheis more than I do Siegfried. A silly habit, maybe.”

“I suppose I’m not surprised by that.” She laughed, too. “You do have a habit of making bad first impressions on your peers.”

“I can’t help it. But he decided to be my friend anyway.” Reinhard smiled a little. “He’s much kinder than I am.”

“How so?”

“He would stop me from doing things that he didn’t approve of. He was usually right.”

“Like what?” She leaned forward onto her elbows.

He was tempted to tell her about the time that he had almost shot the deer, but that felt a little too intimate, like it was a dream that he had shared with Kircheis and spoken about to no one. He talked instead about the various times that Kircheis had stopped him from pummeling his classmates, which felt petty and childish now, but he had been a child then. She listened with rapt attention. “When I make decisions now,” he said when he had finished, “I still think about what he would want me to do.”

“I wish I could meet him.”

“Maybe someday,” he said. “I’m going to find him again.”

“You think so?”

“I will,” Reinhard said, voice as decisive as it had ever been. “No matter what it takes. I will destroy the Empire myself if I need to.”

“That’s why you’re here?” 

“There are many reasons.”

She nodded. Reinhard drank the last of his vodka, feeling the effects of it a little. “You’re lucky that I think about him when I do things,” he said after a second.

“Why?”

“Because otherwise I might have been much more upset.”

“I really am sorry.”

“I can’t blame you too much.” He put his mug down on his desk and leaned on his elbow. “I suppose I did the same thing to him, a long time ago. It just turned out well for me.”

“Oh.”

“Am I rubbing salt in the wound?”

“Only a little.” She finished her drink, too, and looked up sharply as the sound of a key turning in the door interrupted their conversation. The door opened to reveal one of Reinhard’s roommates, Gabriel.

“Having a guest over?” Gabriel asked, looking with a smirk at Reinhard (who was still shirtless) and Fredrica (who was wearing a uniform that was obviously not hers).

“Shut it, Gabriel,” Reinhard said dismissively.

“I was just leaving,” Fredrica said, standing up. “See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Reinhard said. “Don’t forget your textbook.” She had again left it on the desk. Fredrica gathered up her belongings and pushed out of the room past Gabriel.

“You got pretty far with her?” Gabriel asked once she had gone.

“It would suit you better to mind your own business,” Reinhard said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ fredrica: you're not special for being horny for reinhard. at least while she's at a school with a 12:1 men:women ratio it really should not be that hard to find someone who's actually into her 
> 
> The experience of reading this story must be like playing an elaborate game of compare and contrast between all the different character relationships. Get some venn diagrams, or a big pinboard onto which you put some red string, and start drawing some connections. Reuenthal got accidentally rejected by Yang in a dorm room while drinking out of non-standard glassware. Reinhard and Fredrica both sprung kisses on people they assumed were willing to receive them, etc, etc, etc. What does it all mean??????? Who knows lmao. It means that I love parallelism and that's mostly it. 
> 
> Oh, speaking of other relationships-- I drew a picture of annerose and schenkopp on their first little date lol. It's already hanging out in ch5 or wherever the illustration lives, but I might as well show you here too since I doubt people are going back there
> 
> full size image available here https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/49771268561_1f49f5a880_o.png in case idk you want to use it as a desktop background or whatever lol
> 
> If you have a burning desire to see any other scenes from this story illustrated, feel free to leave a suggestion. I may or may not take it but I'm interested to hear what you would most like to see regardless :p
> 
> As always, thanks to lydia for the beta read. I can be found on twitter @natsinator and on tumblr @javert . My original fiction can be read at bit.ly/arcadispark or bit.ly/shadowofheaven .


	11. A Letter From Saint Paul to the Romans (Brothers and Sisters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please make note of the years. Time moves pretty fast in this chapter.

_ December 792 U.C. _

Dear Fredrica,

I hope you are doing well. I won’t waste time describing my situation now (longer letter forthcoming, and just reread my last message if you’re truly bored and desperate). I need you to do me a favor.

It’s Annerose’s birthday, and I am completely unable to give her anything myself, for reasons that I would hope are obvious to you. If you have a spare hour or so, I would appreciate it if you could do the following task on my behalf.

In Heinessenopolis, on the corner of 14th and 32nd St, there is a specialty crafts store called Eye of the Needle. I have already written to them and asked them to prepare an order for pickup, under Annerose’s name (in case you can’t do it, she can pick it up herself, but it would be nicer to not make her go out and fetch her own birthday present). It’s already paid for. If you could pick it up and deliver it to her, I would be very grateful, and I will generously compensate you for your time and effort when I return to school. Think about what you want from me in exchange.

Annerose also likes fruit tarts from a bakery called Joshua and Sons.

A longer letter really is forthcoming within the next day or so, so don’t think me too rude for writing down a list of demands. I wanted to get this out immediately. Thank you in advance.

Your friend,

Reinhard von Müsel

* * *

_ January 793 U.C. _

Dear Annerose,

Perhaps it’s for the best that I’m out in space for the duration of the summer, and then back at school without even the chance to see you while you’re at work. I feel that I would be likely to pester you to no end about how things are going. You might say you don’t mind, but I’m sure you would be annoyed with me anyway. What, after all, could I possibly have to contribute to your working life? I definitely asked for too many details when you were working with Cazerne before.

How is he doing, by the way? Charlotte looks so big in that photo you sent. Do you still talk to him socially, or is that no longer acceptable since he is your direct superior? 

I suppose I should ask you fewer questions, since you’ll answer them all when you write back anyway, as you are a far better letter writer than I, but here are a few more: is our mother doing all right? Is she unhappy that you’re living in officer housing in Heinessenopolis? Is your house working out, by the way? I know you sent me pictures, but I can’t wait to come visit and see it in person. Perhaps I shall invite myself to stay with you over my winter break. Fredrica is working in the military affairs headquarters as well, do you see her around often? Have you met her father (Admiral Greenhill)? Do you like living alone? 

And now I shall tell you how my summer placement is going, since I’m sure you’re dying to know. 

I am finding the work quite interesting and enjoyable, though it is certainly not what I want to spend my entire career doing. My CO has me doing a mix of administrative, technical, and hands on work, so that I can have a broader experience. That’s the justification, anyway, but I suspect that she just doesn’t always have a lot of desk work for me to do, so she sends me off with one of the work crews to do inspections or installations.

I have been getting a lot of suit time recently, which is always interesting. I can admit to you, at least, that the first time I went out, and then the first time I went out untethered, were both somewhat nerve wracking experiences. You went out when you were in space, so it’s not as though I need to wax poetic to you about the feeling of it. But there really is no feeling like it. Especially when I went into the shadow of the station, and I let my eyes adjust, it felt like there was nothing between me and the stars. Like I could reach out and take them right out of the sky and put them on my utility belt.

Aside from that, it’s interesting working in the drydocks. The ships are designed to be full of people, so getting to walk around them while they’re silent and deserted is an eerie experience. You can hear your own footsteps echo so much it sounds like you’re being followed. I’ve gotten used to it, but the first time I got myself a little lost in one of the empty ships, it was a strange, strange feeling. I kept thinking that I was hearing someone just down the corridor I could ask for directions, but then I would walk there and there would be no one. 

I didn’t realize just how big the ships were. It’s one thing to see them on a diagram; it’s another to walk around inside; and it’s a different thing again to fly around the outside just in a suit. I’m getting a good handle on the layout of a bunch of different classes, so I suppose wherever I’m assigned I won’t need to have an escort or spend too long learning my way around. I shan’t bore you with the intricate technical details (and besides, the censors would delete them.)

There are a few other academy students placed here, but they’re all rising seniors, and also all in the engineering program. We get along fine, but I wouldn’t say that we’re destined to be anything other than coworkers. I have no intention of joining the engineering program, after all.

I don’t miss a lot about being on the ground, but I do miss fresh fruit and other produce. I think everything tastes subtly different after it’s been on a starship. And perhaps I shouldn’t admit that I also miss being able to acquire alcohol. Our mother would be unhappy that you’ve instilled bad habits in me. It’s for sale at the commissary on base, but they ask for everyone’s ID so that no one exceeds their ration, and mine is flagged as a minor. It’s not that I have any desire to drink to excess, but, you understand, it’s embarrassing, especially when I am socializing with the other cadets.

Not having net access is also somewhat annoying. I’ve been spending my free time reading and writing (among other things) which you know I would be doing anyway, but not being able to look up things other than what’s in the base media library, or that comes in on the daily news-- it is a roadblock. To that end, I’ve attached my latest post for my website. If you could upload it for me, I would greatly appreciate it.

In general, I suppose, I am doing well, and I hope you are, too. Please enjoy the nice summer weather for me-- that’s another thing that space quite obviously lacks.

And last, but certainly not least, happy birthday! Please eat some fruit tarts on my behalf.

Your brother,

Reinhard

* * *

_ January 793 U.C. _

Dear Walter,

I hope that you’re not too disappointed that my beginning assignment is on Heinessen. Captain Cazerne, who I wrote you about several years ago, specifically requested me because of my experience during the summer program. I would have liked to get a choice, but in terms of assignments, this one is far from the worst. You’ll probably laugh to think about me associating with the real brass, running around on every errand that Cazerne can think of for me to do. For better or for worse, he knows how to put me to good use. I won’t say it’s interesting work, since I feel like you would be bored out of your skull by it, but it is necessary and always changing work, which makes it of interest to me. 

Even though I spend a good portion of my time behind my desk, I have not let myself get completely lazy. I recalled that when I visited you in Heinessenopolis, you took my brother to a gym-- I asked Reinhard about the specifics, and he described the place to me. After I got myself settled into the junior officer housing (Reinhard keeps describing it to people as a house, but it really is an apartment, not any larger than the one my mother lives in; I hope that he won’t be terribly disillusioned when he comes to visit me), I introduced myself to the proprietor of that establishment as a friend of yours. He has me working hard to keep myself sharp. I hope you approve, and don’t think I’m meddling in your life overmuch.

I practice regularly with the other junior officers in the military affairs headquarters, too, but their interests diverge from mine in a few areas, and-- maybe it’s gauche for me to complain about such things, but I will anyway because I trust that you will understand-- there is a certain disregard that women are held in. Oh, it’s fine that I am a competent officer and good at my logistics job, but it’s a different story when we’re in the gym. It’s not that I make a fool of myself (I don’t) but it’s hard to judge myself accurately when everyone against me is treating me with kid gloves. Your friend from the gym doesn’t do that: I knew he wouldn’t, because you have good taste in friends.

This is perhaps silly for me to be pleased about, but it’s another thing I’m sure you’ll understand: I got my citizenship card. I keep looking at it. It’s not like it changes very much about my life, but my vanity compels me to appreciate markers of status. Besides, the photo on it is quite nice (see attached). I’m excited to vote in the upcoming elections-- to think when I was a child I had no concept of participating in a democracy! Anyway, I’ll tell you that I won’t be voting for Job Truhnit for SecDef. The man seems like bad news all around. Unfortunately, his opponent in the race is not very well spoken, so I have a feeling that he will lose. I don’t mind Sanford, though, and I hope he gets reelected. You never mentioned-- do you have any interest in following politics?

I should have started my letter with this, but congratulations (again) on your promotion. I feel like I have to say that to you every six months or so, which feels fast enough to alarm me. You must be making yourself pretty valuable over there. I’m sure that soon you’ll be in charge of the whole regiment. 

Please do tell me more about how things are going for you. I write to you because I want to hear how your life actually is. Tell me all the amusing anecdotes about Linz and Der Decken that you like. I’m not as bored by them as you seem to assume that I am. I very much look forward to meeting them someday-- I half feel as though I know them already.

I think I have made up my mind about where I want to be assigned. I think it’s to my benefit to stay on Heinessen for now, at least for the next few years until Reinhard graduates from the Academy. He doesn’t want me to baby him, of course, but my position right now is a good one, and I should make the most of it before I rush out heedlessly into the universe. When Reinhard graduates-- and, don’t take this as a promise, because that’s still years away-- I think I will ask for a transfer to the Rosen Ritter.

I ran into your grandmother the other day, by the way. She seemed to be in good health. If you would like me to check in on her, I’m happy to do so. She’s a wonderful woman, though she did talk for so long there on the street that I nearly missed my bus home.

I hope you are doing well.

Sincerely,

Annerose

* * *

_ April 793 U.C. _

Dear Dusty,

I do appreciate your little newsletter. It never fails to make me laugh. I’m sure that you’re also writing to Jessica, but I’m happy to report to you that the Liberty Bell is still a thriving little paper back at the academy, even though you haven’t been there to guide it along. Reinhard reads it, and always gives me some dismissive report on it, but I think he just has different standards than the average cadet.

I was on the edge of my seat when I read your last letter. I know that this is war and that it’s your duty to be on the front lines, but hearing you talk about life in the Iserlohn patrol makes me fear for your safety every day of my life. 

Congratulations on your promotion, regardless of the circumstances under which it took place. You’ll have your own ship within the next year and a half, I know it.

I see on the maintenance schedule that your battlegroup is due to come back to port “soon”. (Check with your CO for when, but I’m letting you know that it has been scheduled, can’t specify here because the censors will delete it). When you are in port, you should come to Heinessenopolis and visit me. You’re welcome to stay at my place for the duration of your port call, or if you must, you can go to Jessica. I don’t recall which of us is closer to your actual family. Correct me if I’m wrong and you would rather stay with them, of course.

In terms of my life, there’s very little to report that you haven’t heard a million times already, so I won’t bore you with it. 

I hope that we can meet up soon. Please stay safe until then.

Your friend,

Annerose

* * *

_ September 793 U.C. _

Jackson and Caroline Edwards

And

Francis and Marianne Lapp

Request the honor of your presence at the wedding of their children,

Jessica Edwards

And 

Jean Robert Lapp,

On Saturday the twentieth of February, Seven Hundred Ninety Four

At four in the afternoon

In the Thernusen Botanical Gardens,

Followed by dinner and dancing.

_ And, scrawled across the back, _

ANNEROSE! Thank you so much for the scheduling advice. I hope that everyone will be able to make it. What was I thinking when I made friends with people scattered halfway across the galaxy? Jean is in even worse of a position than I am, in that respect. I should come visit you up in the capital sometime before then. Love, Jessica

* * *

_ February 794 U.C. _

Dear Fredrica,

You’ll be pleased to know that Jessica’s wedding went smoothly. She does send her thanks for the gift. The venue itself was quite nice, and Jessica looked very beautiful, and seemed very happy.

I think the best part was probably the music. Jessica is a musician herself, so she picked the selections, and she found a very good band to play the event, and then the reception. I think that, perhaps for the first time, I enjoyed dancing. Now you can’t accuse me of standing around at a party doing nothing but hovering by the refreshments. (The food was also very good.)

If you want to know who I danced with, the answer is that all of Jessica’s music school friends, and her teacher friends from her other college, took a turn. I was on my best behavior. 

You got to meet the groom once before, didn’t you? Jessica mentioned that she brought him by one of the women’s society meetings to introduce him to everyone, but I obviously wasn’t there. He made a good impression on me at the wedding. He seems like a dependable man. 

I enjoyed getting to meet one of Annerose’s friends, Dusty Attenborough, who is the commander of a destroyer called the Elf III. If you picture a man who would be in charge of a ship called the Elf, you’ve pictured Dusty Attenborough. He’s very funny, and considering that he was a sub-lieutenant just five years ago, he’s risen a lot, quite quickly. Apparently, it’s due to his luck in the Iserlohn corridor, as he continuously avoids dying. It’s a dangerous posting, but he takes it in stride, and I’m more than a little jealous.

You know that I want to be out in space. I suppose it’s only fair that you’re out this summer, and I’m still on Heinessen. Are you enjoying your time aboard a supply ship? 

On the subject of weddings again, all on the way back to Heinessenpolis, Annerose was in a mood, which I determined to be her moping about her own relationships. I know she doesn’t want me to get involved in her romantic life (because she is perhaps rightly worried that I will cause her trouble). Should I tell her that if she wants to be with her former boyfriend this badly, that she should ask for a transfer? She said she wants to stay on Heinessen until I graduate, which I of course appreciate (and her current posting is quite well suited to her talents), but I don’t want to hold her back, either. I haven’t put my dreams on hold for any reason (they are just taking a frustratingly long time), so I don’t understand why she would. I don’t even like the guy, and I doubt that he’s been waiting for Annerose to come running after him. I don’t want her to chase after something that doesn’t even exist.

And you are not going to tell me that I should remove the log in my eye before I remove the needle from hers.

I’m looking forward to the school year starting again. Living with Annerose over the summer is quite nice, but my assignment this summer is not particularly thrilling. I’m not too proud to say that I miss having you around, as well.

Your friend,

Reinhard

* * *

_ September 794 U.C. _

Walter,

The idea that you would tell me not to transfer to the Rosen Ritter is, quite frankly, absurd and insulting. I’m not sure what has happened to cause you to change your mind, but telling me that I should go where my talents would suit me sounds like you are saying that I do not have the talent required. I can assure you that I do. 

Thank you for your congratulations on my promotion.

I see that the Rosen Ritter are due to be recalled to Heinessen soon. I look forward to seeing you then.

Sincerely,

Annerose

* * *

_ January 795 U.C. _

Dear Annerose,

I know you said that Commodore Cazerne wasn’t going to pry into my placement for the summer program, and I didn’t think that you had the ability to, and I feel like Fredrica doesn’t want her father to pull strings for her, but I know that there is someone who should be either thanked or reprimanded for Fredrica and I being placed together. If you find out who that responsible individual is, please do thank them on my behalf.

It must have been some string pulling, since this is an engineering oriented position, and neither Fredrica nor I are in the engineering program. Still, I have plenty of experience with similar things from my first summer, so I suppose I feel right at home. New construction is in some ways more interesting and in some ways less interesting than the upgrades that I did in the first year.

It’s fascinating watching the frames of the ships get put together, but there is much less individual variation between the hulls in these new constructions than there is in the existing fleet vehicles. It’s growing on me, though.

I’ve been getting a lot of suit time, which I enjoy. I remember being slightly apprehensive about it during my first summer, but I’m much more used to it now.

And, now I’m a legal adult, which makes everything easier. For a variety of reasons, then, this summer is my most pleasant by far. (Not that living with you last summer was unpleasant, but this is more exciting, and sometimes I need some excitement in my life.)

Happy birthday! I had mom get a gift for you, so you’ll have to go pick it up from her.

I hope you are doing well. Please keep me updated.

Love,

Reinhard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PER MY PREVIOUS EMAIL
> 
> Annerose "I'm sending you a picture of my driver's license to show you that I'm a citizen now but really it's just an excuse to show you a nice photo of me" von Müsel. Annerose "somehow manages to look good on her official government id photo" von Müsel
> 
> Reinhard has thoroughly deputized Fredrica but she doesn't really mind lol.
> 
> If you're catholic the chapter title will hopefully make you laugh a little, but it's meaningless otherwise haha. I feel like there's a part of me that wants to be an epistolary writer but another part of me could not bear the level of nonsense that epistolary writers create. anyway, here is an elaborate timeskip disguised as an epistolary chapter.
> 
> We're inching closer to the end of this part of the story, are you all excited? 
> 
> same as it ever was: thanks to lydia for the beta read. I'm javert @ tumblr and natsinator @ twitter. my original fiction can be found at bit.ly/shadowofheaven and bit.ly/arcadispark


	12. Give Me a Place to Stand, and I Will Move the Stars

_ February 795 U.C. _

Reinhard was enjoying his summer on Condor Base, which was a huge facility in the starzone of the same name. The base was the only inhabited part of the starzone, constructed inside a huge asteroid within the asteroid belt between the first and second planets of the system, one terrestrial and one a gas giant. Condor Starzone was enticingly close to the Iserlohn corridor, about the closest that one could get to the front lines during these student postings. While Reinhard was thrilled at this prospect, Fredrica, who had been assigned with him, was less so. It wasn’t that she was afraid, but they were further out even than El Facil, which held unpleasant memories for her, so she had started off their summer in a strange mood.

The base was a construction facility for new starships, pulling in ore from the asteroid belt, processing it into the huge metal frames and sheets that made up starships, and assembling them from their component parts. It was a huge place, and up to a hundred ships were in some stage of construction there at once, from those that were nothing more than frames arranged like ribcages, to those that were undergoing their readiness trials to be deployed, with their full complement of equipment and weapons.

Reinhard and Fredrica were the only two rising senior cadets on the base, though there were two other juniors, whom they vaguely recognized and were friendly with when they ate together in the massive base cafeteria. Though Reinhard had complained about the food during his first posting, it was even worse here. In his first summer, he had still been within the Heinessen starzone, where food didn’t have to travel very far. Here, they were on the frontier of frontiers. Nobody else complained about it, though, so he kept his opinions to himself and considered that perhaps he simply had a more refined palate than his classmates.

Although he and Fredrica were technically assigned to different aspects of work, their COs had decided that they would get more benefit out of pooling their expertise and time, so Reinhard and Fredrica found themselves working together more often than not, a situation that both of them appreciated. They usually spent their mornings doing desk work with Fredrica’s CO, Commander Brandon Swift, tracking the build schedule of each ship in the base. After lunch, they took the long walk to the other side of the base, where Reinhard’s CO, Commander Xi Longfan, had them go out and inspect the work that was being done on the ships. 

It was challenging and interesting work, made more challenging by the variety of it. Reinhard and Fredrica were both usually exhausted by the time their afternoon shift ended, enough that they generally retreated after dinner to one of their rooms and relaxed, rather than (in Reinhard’s case) needing to burn off extra energy in the gym. 

They were in Reinhard’s room tonight. Usually they were fairly discreet when one of them visited the other-- although Reinhard knew the other cadets on the base speculated that they were a couple, there was no reason for them to get in trouble for inappropriate behavior. He wasn’t sure if they would get in trouble for that, but there was no reason to make people believe something untrue, regardless. He was amused by the rumors more than anything, though Fredrica was less so.

“What are you working on?” Fredrica asked him as he lay on his bed, typing an occasional note into his computer, punctuating long periods of thoughtfully staring into space.

“Post for my website,” Reinhard said. “About the benefits and disadvantages of having starship production centralized versus distributed.”

“If you’re not careful, people are going to figure out you’re in the Fleet.”

“So?”

“Well, do what you like.”

“You can read it when I’m finished and tell me if you think I’m being too obvious.”

“I always do.”

“True.” Reinhard looked over at her, sitting at his desk. She was also writing something. “And what are you doing?”

“Writing a letter to my dad.”

“How is he?”

“Fine, I think.”

“You don’t sound like you’re enjoying it.”

“I don’t like writing to him, because he’s always paranoid about me.”

“I see.”

“Does your mom do that to you?”

Reinhard laughed. “No, definitely not. And I don’t mind if Annerose fusses.”

“That’s different, I guess.” She sighed a little, then typed out maybe two more words into her note.

“Just make it impersonal.”

“Then he’d think that something is actually wrong.”

Reinhard flipped some of his long hair out of his face. “Maybe he knows something that you don’t.”

“Like what?”

“What if, while we’re here, the Fleet tries another push through Iserlohn.”

Fredrica grimaced. “That would not be good.”

“Why not?”

“I’m hesitant to say that it’s impossible, but it seems like a waste to throw people at that corridor over and over with nothing to show for it.”

“Oh, I agree,” Reinhard said. He rolled over onto his back, put his arms underneath his head, and crossed his legs. “I could take Iserlohn.”

“And I could move a planet with my own hands if I had a long enough lever,” Fredrica said. “Don’t be full of yourself, or I’ll go to bed.”

Reinhard laughed again. “Alright, alright.”

“Are you looking forward to the next set of readiness trials for C-108 tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He wasn’t lying. The ship was in its final stages of completion, and tomorrow it would be taken out of its dock for the first time and have its stardrive performance measured. Although it was not the most thrilling thing to do-- fly out into empty space and then turn around and come back-- it was at least going out. Reinhard had come to like the sensation of the stardrive beneath him, though the same couldn’t be said for Fredrica, who merely tolerated it.

“I am, as well.” She sighed and closed her computer. “Maybe I should save my letter writing for after that, and then I can have something to actually discuss.”

“Good idea.” Reinhard rolled onto his side to look at her. “We’ll be going out there, on a fully made up ship, but without a real crew. It seems like a situation that’s easy to take advantage of.”

Fredrica looked over at him. “Are you implying that since we’re so close to the Iserlohn corridor you want to steal a ship and head back to the Empire?”

Reinhard was immediately annoyed with her and sat up sharply. “I’ll thank you not to insult me.”

“It was a joke.”

“In poor taste.”

“I’m aware that if you stole a ship you’d go use it against the Empire,” Fredrica said. “But we are not going to do that.”

Reinhard crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her.

“And what would you do to stop me?”

“Good night,” she said, and headed out.

Reinhard fumed. He didn’t understand where the conversation had gone wrong. Perhaps Fredrica was just in a bad mood from trying to write to her father, but that didn’t mean she had to be annoyed at him for no reason. He had been friends with her for several years, and did not understand her half the time.

* * *

Reinhard was still annoyed with her the next day, when they both met up at the dock to board the C-108 for her readiness trials. They didn’t speak to each other. Fredrica smiled at him, but Reinhard glanced at her and then ignored her. He could hold a grudge for a little while, at least.

They boarded the ship with the rest of the dozen or so test crew and took the long walk through its long and empty length doing pre-launch inspections, before finally ending up at the bridge. The C-108 was a destroyer, unnamed until it was assigned to a fleet, but it had a full array of weaponry. For the duration of the test, Reinhard was sitting at the fire control station, simply because that was where the available seat was. Frederica was next to him at the radar and targeting station. Neither of them, of course, would be using their consoles for anything, but Reinhard spent some time memorizing the layout and recalling from his practical courses how one would operate the station, if it came down to it. Their actual duties during the readiness test were to record and report on data from various sensors that had been placed around the ship, and were being fed into a laptop that sat in between them. When the stardrive was activated under different conditions, it would cause various parts of the ship to measure different relative gravities. If the stardrive exceeded the allowable level of variation, the ship would fail the readiness test and need to be returned to dock.

The test went well at first. They left the dock and cleared the base’s safety radius before beginning the ramp up to lightspeed and then FTL. They travelled several light-hours away from the base, then turned the drive off for a mandatory reset after prolonged stress test. Turning the drive completely off was a long process that ships almost never underwent, since the drive also provided the artificial gravity within the ship. Over half an hour, they all waited patiently and felt progressively lighter and lighter, until a single touch would have sent them out of their chairs and towards the ceiling. After a ten minute waiting period, Commander Xi gave the order to turn the stardrive back on. Everyone waited for the slowly increasing feeling of gravity, but it never came. When it became clear that the stardrive was not working properly, Reinhard and Fredrica shared a minute look, Reinhard’s previous annoyance forgotten in this new excitement.

Xi pursed his lips and ordered the maintenance crew to go down to the stardrive and investigate.

“Sir, may Cadet Greenhill and I go as well?” Reinhard asked.

Xi gave his assent, so Reinhard and Fredrica followed the maintenance crew down toward the center of the ship, to where the stardrive sat dead and quiet. It was a huge mass of machinery, traversing the entire center axis of the ship, with everything else oriented around it. The maintenance crew immediately started hooking in to the debug terminal that would give them access to the stardrive on a deeper level than what was available to the bridge crew. Reinhard watched over their shoulders as they investigated.

“Commander, I’ve got the terminal open now, it looks like the drive never got the turn-on signal. Try sending it again?” one of them said into the communications hub on the wall.

“Acknowledged.” There was a brief pause, then the radio came to life with Xi’s voice again. “Any change?”

“No, sir.”

“Will it power on from where you’re standing?”

“Give me the command and I’ll try it. But I’ll bet if it does turn on you won’t have control.”

“Try it.”

“Acknowledged.”

The tech typed in a long string of commands into the terminal. Reinhard caught Fredrica also watching, and he raised an eyebrow at her. She had a photographic memory, so it was nice to know that, should the improbable occasion arise, she would probably be able to repeat this series of commands.

“Oop,” the tech said. “We’re live.”

Reinhard felt the sudden twisting of gravity in his gut, and began falling slowly to the floor. “What was the problem?” he asked.

The tech scratched his head. “I’m guessing it’s a wiring issue. The diagnostic says all the connections are fine, but the proof is in the pudding, isn’t it.”

The radio came to life again. “Good job on the fix. How long until we’re at full power?”

“Half an hour’s standard for startup. The problem isn’t really fixed,” the tech warned. “We can try to isolate it now.”

“No point,” Xi said. “I’m going to call in to base for a tow. It’s against SOP to fly with a failed drive.”

“Well, it’s not the drive that’s the problem.”

“We’ve failed the test, so we’re getting a tow. You might as well come back up. At least we have gravity.”

Reinhard glanced at Fredrica, then the maintenance tech. “Can I?” he asked, gesturing to the radio. The tech moved aside.

“Commander,” Reinhard said.

“What is it, cadet?” Xi’s voice was rather annoyed.

“If it’s not an urgent thing that we’re needed on the bridge, I think it would be a valuable learning experience to investigate the problem while we wait.”

There was a moment of silence, and Reinhard could just picture Xi sighing heavily before turning on the radio again. “Fine, investigate all you want, but we’re getting a tow back.”

Reinhard grinned a little. “Better than waiting around doing nothing.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” the tech said, seemingly relieved about not having to return to the bridge. “Like I said, I would put money down on it being a wiring problem. We can get started tracing the leads. You got a utility kit?” Reinhard and Fredrica both nodded. “I’ll show you the coaming where the cables are. You’ll have to open it up.”

So that was what they did, as the gravity grew heavier and heavier around them. They pried open ceiling tiles to reveal huge bundles of cabling. A quick visual inspection was enough usually to confirm that everything was in order in each section.

The trickiest part came when they had to traverse through the narrow ladderway, barely wide enough for Reinhard’s shoulders, going up between two floors. But it was there that Reinhard, with Fredrica below him handing him up his tools very carefully, discovered the problem. Inside the coaming, inside the bundle of wires, a screwdriver had nestled itself inside the bundle, managing to somehow scrape open the protective sheath around one of the wires. Bare metal made contact and shorted it out.

“Is this a live wire?” Reinhard asked. “Can you unplug it so that I can pull this out?” He squeezed back down the ladder so that Fredrica and the maintenance tech could see the problem.

“Well, would you look at that,” the tech said. “Xi will be happy to know it’s a simple fix. Won’t have to tear the whole ship apart, even if we are getting a tow back.” 

It didn’t take long to repair the wire, once the problem was discovered, and so satisfied, the whole group returned to the bridge.

“You’re still getting that tow, sir?” the tech asked Xi. “You have drive control now.”

Xi barely glanced at him. “Glad it’s fixed.” But he didn’t sound glad at all.

“Is there another problem, sir?” Reinhard asked. 

It was obvious that there was, but Xi didn’t have the time of day for Reinhard. He was leaning over the shoulder of the crewman at the radio console. “Raise them again.”

“There’s just too much interference,” the radio man said.

“Can we get them with the regular radio?”

“It will be hours before we get a reply. If you want me to, I will send a message that way.”

Xi rubbed his cheek and straightened, returning to his seat. “Keep trying the ansible.”

“Will do, sir.”

Reinhard sidled up beside Xi. Although he was aware that his questions sometimes grated on the man’s nerves, he also had things that he needed to know. “We’re having communications interference, sir?”

“It is probably nothing. These things happen,” Xi said. “But yes.”

“But if it’s intentional jamming?”

“Cadet, paranoia doesn’t suit you. Natural phenomenons, stellar flares, micro black holes-- those are responsible for more communications interference than all enemy jamming has ever produced.”

“Then you should send a regular radio signal, right?” Reinhard knew he was pressing his luck. Xi was probably quite reluctant to send out a regular radio signal, on the off chance that this was enemy jamming, because a regular radio signal would reveal their position.

Xi turned away from him and towards the man who had been with them down in the stardrive. “You fixed the issue?”

“Some debris knocked a wire out, most likely when we were without gravity. It’s all fixed now.” He gave Xi a pointed look that Reinhard did not miss. “You can fly us back, if you don’t want to wait for a tow.”

“That’s not SOP,” Xi said again, though there was strain in his voice.

Reinhard glanced around the bridge. No one was paying attention to him except for Fredrica, so he gave her a little hand signal, and the two of them slipped out into the hallway.

“What’s going on?” Fredrica asked immediately.

“You heard him. Communications blackout.”

“Are we going to wait here?” Fredrica asked.

“How long do you think we can wait? There’s a couple different scenarios that I’m seeing.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s a natural blackout. It ends in a couple hours, we call base, we get a tow home.”

“Okay.”

“But I don’t know if it is that. If we wait around for the blackout to end, we’ll definitely be too late. If we use regular radio, we’ll be too late AND we’ll give away our position.”

“So you think we should fly back in?”

“Xi has to make that choice. But yes. We should.”

“Why doesn’t he want to?”

“Right now, the base knows where we are. SOP says that we need to stay in approved locations in case we do lose power and radio, so that we can wait for rescue. We basically have lost power and radio, though not really, so I can see why Xi is being paranoid.” Reinhard bit his finger. “But.”

“But.”

“If there’s an enemy heading towards the base, we can’t just sit here.”

“And what are the odds that it is?”

“I don’t know. Blackouts are normal, but we’re so close to the corridor, and--”

“My dad is paranoid,” Fredrica said.

“Xi needs to make that call,” Reinhard said.

“What will you do if he doesn’t?”

Reinhard narrowed his eyes. “Are you with me, or against me, Fredrica?”

“Get yourself under control,” she snapped. “This is why I’m asking that question.”

“We’re still cadets. They can’t court martial us.”

“Reinhard!”

The door to the bridge opened. “What are you two doing out here?” the tech asked.

“Nothing,” Reinhard said, and went back inside the bridge, sitting back down at his weapons console, with Fredrica next to him. She kept looking over at him nervously. Reinhard sat like a coiled spring, and his fingers made occasional twitches towards the weapons controls, as though there were an enemy there to fight. There wasn’t, so all he could do was wait.

The tension on the bridge was ratcheting up by the minute, and Xi began pacing back and forth. After about half an hour of the occasional confirmation that there was no change in status from the communications blackout, Xi said, “Von Müsel, switch places with Browning.” Browning was the man in charge of the radio and ansible communications.

Reinhard’s back stiffened. “Yes, sir.”

“You understand how to operate the radio, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” What was more important, and apparently a question that Xi did not need to ask, was if Browning had the ability to operate the weapons console.

“Cadet Greenhill, please give up your place to Sanfei.”

“Sir, I’m sure I--” Fredrica began to protest, but then saw the look on Xi’s face and stopped. “Yes, sir,” she said, and relinquished her seat. She came to stand behind Reinhard, looking over his shoulder.

“Did you want me to send a message, sir?” Reinhard asked.

“Not now, Cadet,” Xi said. Reinhard was frustrated to realize that he had been told to switch seats into a useless position only because he would have argued harder than Fredrica would about being kicked out of any seat to begin with. His frustration was tempered only slightly by the fact that Xi seemed to be prepared to take the course of action that he wanted him to take.

Xi sat down in the captain’s chair, leaned his head on his hand and closed his eyes for a second. After a long moment of silence he said, “Cadet von Müsel, please make a note in the log that I am breaking procedure under my own authority. Note the reason as being that I believe the base to be in dang-- in a position where it will be unable to send a tow.”

“Yes, sir,” Reinhard said. “Is that all?”

“For now, Cadet,” Xi said. “Mannu, please plot our course back to base. Do not strain the drive.” He paused. “Actually, put us half a light second outside of the base’s safe zone.”

“Yes, sir.” And, a few seconds later. “Course plotted.”

“Forward,” Xi said, dropping his hand down. The stardrive engaged with its twisting feeling, and the ship lept faster than light through space.

The trip back was quiet and tense. Xi went between his various staff and spoke to them in low tones. He had the ship engage its anti-radar protections, as well as putting various weapons into their activated mode. There was only so much the ship could do with such a tiny crew, but it would be more than nothing. Xi seemed to be avoiding Reinhard and Fredrica until near the end of the journey, when he stood in front of the two of them.

“Cadets, out of an abundance of caution, I would like the two of you to go into one of the escape pods and wait a safe distance away from base.”

“What?” Reinhard asked, immediately affronted. “You want us to abandon ship when you already only have a dozen crew?”

“I am  _ ordering _ the two of you to wait in an escape pod until the situation becomes clearer.”

“Why?”

“Because you are not soldiers, and thus it is my duty to keep you out of harm’s way.”

“But we are, sir,” Fredrica said.

“No, you are students. I’m not here to coddle your egos. Are you going to cooperate or are you going to argue?”

“Either we’re soldiers and must obey your orders, or we’re civilians and don’t have to,” Reinhard said. “Sir.”

“Are you going to cooperate, or am I going to have to order someone to waste their time escorting you into an escape pod? We’re arriving back at base in ten minutes, so make up your mind.”

“Reinhard,” Fredrica said. “Let’s go.”

“No,” Reinhard snapped. “I can be useful here.”

“Spaceman Chesterfield,” Xi said, his patience wearing out. “Please escort Cadet von Müsel and Cadet Greenhill into escape pod Alpha-Fourteen.”

Reinhard stood from his seat, his face red. “Fine.” He realized he wasn’t going to win this fight, at least not against the entire rest of the crew of this ship. He stalked off, arms crossed, escorted by Chesterfield and followed by Fredrica. 

They entered the escape pod, Reinhard very reluctantly, and strapped themselves in as Chesterfield sealed and locked the door.

“You shouldn’t have argued with him,” Fredrica said. “Now he’s going to be pissed at you for the rest of the summer.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am.”

“You’re operating under the assumption that there’s going to be a ‘rest of the summer’ on the base to go back to.”

“We still don’t know what’s going on.”

“If it was a natural blackout, it would have almost certainly ended by now.”

“You weren’t trying to raise the base over the ansible while you were at the comms post.”

“But it would have been SOP for them to raise us once the blackout ended on their side.”

“You’re convinced that the base is under attack?”

“So is Xi.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Reinhard bit his finger and said nothing.

“You have a plan,” Fredrica said.

“And why should I share it with you, since you wouldn’t let us stay on the ship where we could actually participate in the battle?”

“You think there’s going to be a battle? Also, for the record, if you hadn’t run your mouth, we could have just pretended to get into the escape pod, and stayed on board. You earned us an escort.”

“If Xi just wanted to visually confirm that the base was under attack, he would have let us stay on the ship, because then he would have run. Dumping us into space is…” Reinhard frowned. “Well, if he survives and you don’t, your dad will probably break his neck himself.”

“Don’t say that!” Fredrica snapped. 

“What else am I supposed to say?”

“Tell me what your plan is.”

Reinhard turned as much as he could in his seat towards the tiny command panel of the escape pod. It had very limited controls-- barely enough to avoid crashing into major obstacles. The thing had only a tiny amount of fuel and little thrusters. At least it had a good screen and telescope for them to see the battle. No ansible, of course, but they did have standard radio. Minor anti-radar capabilities. In the back there were trunks of one-size-fits-all spacesuits, first aid kits, and several weeks worth of rations. The escape pod wasn’t useless, but it was inferior to being on a ship. Reinhard had already been formulating his plan in his mind from the minute that Xi had forced him to vacate the bridge, but he considered it very carefully before he said it out loud to Fredrica.

“They’re going to drop us half a light second out,” Reinhard said. “We might be able to get to the base.”

“You’re insane.”

“Do you want to do something or not?” he asked. 

“I’m literally going to kill you.”

“Try.”

“Shut up!”

Their conversation was interrupted by the pod launching out of the ship, whipping them into their seats at an acceleration of 10Gs. Reinhard’s vision blacked out momentarily, and his ears were ringing when he came to. On the screen, he could see the C-108 growing smaller and smaller as it began accelerating again towards the base, leaving them drifting aimlessly in space, mostly towards the base, but knocked off at a slight angle due to the way they had been launched.

Reinhard turned towards the controls console again. The first thing that he did was turn on the highest magnification possible on the telescope, aiming it towards the base. What he saw made his blood run cold. Imperial ships were swarming the base. Tiny pinpricks of light indicated that the base was fighting back with all it had, but it was clear that it wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“Oh my God,” Fredrica said, hands tightening against her seatbelt straps.

“Do you agree with me now?” Reinhard asked. “I don’t think anyone is going to come to rescue us.” And, besides, he had no intention of waiting for rescue. If he was holding out for rescue, at best, they would need to wait for someone in Fleet central command to realize that the base had been attacked, then come to investigate, a process that could take a long time. And that was assuming that the imperial ships didn’t detect their little escape pod and shoot them out of the sky.

“What’s going to happen to everyone there?” Fredrica asked, her voice quiet.

“The same thing that happened on El Facil,” Reinhard said, which was a low blow indeed. Fredrica paled still further. “We have a decent starting velocity, since I think the C-108 barely dropped out of FTL to get rid of us,” Reinhard continued. “We’ll get near the base in about...” He worked out the math in his head, using rough estimates when he didn’t have real information. “Fifteen hours, if we nudge ourselves back into the right direction.”

“That’s so long.”

“It will give us a chance to look at the situation, at least.” He stared grimly at the screen, watching the battle that was taking place. “We can use the pod’s fuel to slow us down enough that we can get out.”

“And what will we do when we get there?” Fredrica asked.

“That depends on what the situation looks like.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“They’re probably going to take prisoners,” Reinhard said after a long moment. “If we can sneak onto the base and free them…”

He knew that this was a non-plan, but Fredrica was nodding along, as he had suspected she would. Fredrica had escaped El Facil, and he knew she was spending the rest of her life trying to make up for what happened to the people who didn’t. If she related the situation they were in now to the one she had been in then, she would go along with anything Reinhard said. He didn’t even have to push too hard; all he had to do was make the connection visible.

“All right,” Fredrica said after a moment. “Do it.”

Reinhard nodded. Carefully, he took control of the pod’s thrusters and released a tiny bit of their precious fuel to change their angle. The action still shoved him and Fredrica both hard sideways, but they were on course towards the base. “We’ll just have to wait until then,” Reinhard said.

It was an excruciatingly long trip. Neither of them spoke much, and they took turns sleeping. Reinhard investigated the suits in the back and nibbled at some of the dry rations. The fight around the base hadn’t lasted for much longer. They couldn’t see very clearly, but they had seen a massive explosion that looked like a ship coming apart, a little off the side of the base. Reinhard hoped that it hadn’t been the C-108, but he suspected that it was. Eventually, the tiny sparks that indicated an exchange of fire subsided completely, and the dark shadows of the imperial ships surrounded the base completely. 

That was the situation they were flying into. Reinhard had to assume that, since they hadn’t just destroyed the base outright, they were taking prisoners, and also probably combing through the computer systems for information. He was sure that the base would be destroyed eventually, as he couldn’t see any reason for the imperials to hold onto it. But scouring the base for people and information would take time, probably at least thirty hours, so they were going to make it “in time.”

When they came just outside the base enough that Reinhard was worried that their pod’s fuel emissions would be detected if they got closer, he fired their thrusters hard backwards to slow them down, forcing them hard into their seats for a couple of minutes and taking them from a gallop to a veritable crawl. It was almost painful, this slow, slow final approach. When they were about twenty kilometers out, Reinhard and Fredrica helped each other put on their suits. They could have done it themselves, but there was an unspoken mutual comfort in having someone else come around behind and check all the seals and tighten all the straps on the propulsion pack.

Before Reinhard put his helmet on, he took one last look at the situation on the screen, and explained the path he thought they should take to Fredrica, who nodded silently. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

He put his helmet on, completely obscuring his face, and she slid hers on as well. Reinhard checked the seals of her helmet again, and she did a final look at his, and then they both squeezed into the rear airlock. It took a long time for the chamber to empty, and the sound of his own breathing in his helmet raised the already high feeling of tension. 

He made the hand signal to Fredrica to get ready, then he opened the outer door. They hoisted themselves along the outside of the escape pod, clinging hand over hand to the holds that lined its sides, until they had positioned themselves beside each other. Fredrica reached out her hand to him, but Reinhard gave the hand signal for no-- it was better that they didn’t hold hands for this, because they risked sending themselves into a spin. Still, he was glad that he couldn’t see Fredrica’s face through her helmet when he did that. He crouched and lined himself up, settling his feet hard against the side of the escape pod, and Fredrica did the same. 

He held up a hand, counted down, three, two, one, then swung his arm violently down like a commander giving the order to fire, and the two of them kicked off the side of the pod together, sending themselves sailing towards the base.

They had propulsion units on their backs, but it was better to not waste any of their very limited fuel. Reinhard’s field of view was limited, so he could barely see Fredrica beside him, and since they couldn’t use radio, there was no way for them to communicate. It was good that she had at least ended up moving in his same direction, but Reinhard’s push-off had been stronger, so he ended up in front of her after a while, completely unable to look behind himself to see her. It was a long journey.

He drifted closer and closer to the base, coming in on the side where the ships in the very first stages of construction were lined up like the ribs of giant whales. He had floated in between them before, when he had been out on inspection, but they were eerier in the darkness, with the work lights turned off, the whole scene lit only by the stars and the lights that the imperial ships cast around. And during those times, he had had the constant chatter of the radio in his ears. Now he felt more alone than he ever had, as he slipped inside and was dwarfed by the huge metal frames.

He fired his jets to slow himself and control his journey. Fredrica came up beside him, and Reinhard was relieved. He pointed towards the nearest emergency airlock into the base, nestled behind one of the huge metal beams. They aimed themselves towards it, slowed down as much as they could, then gently collided with the metal walls of the side of the base, each scrambling for hand and foot holds. They didn’t seem to have been spotted.

Reinhard pointed at the access panel, and Fredrica pulled herself towards it. He could picture, though he could not see, her squinting expression as she recalled the code that wouldn’t sound the emergency open alarm. She keyed it in, and they both waited with bated breath for the door to open. There was a good chance that all the codes had been disabled, but, no, there was the door sliding open. They hauled themselves inside with relief, then closed the door and waited for the air to cycle again.

The relief of being back in a place with artificial gravity, and not floating untethered in space was great enough that it almost made Reinhard feel as though the hard part was over. The hard part, though, had just begun.

When the airlock finished cycling, they stumbled out into the dark corridor and immediately removed both of their helmets. Fredrica dragged him down the hallway slightly, into a closet where they wouldn’t be seen, and they removed their cumbersome space suits.

“What now?” Fredrica asked.

“If we sneak towards the main control center, we might be able to find out where they’re keeping everyone,” Reinhard said.

Frederica nodded. They slipped out of the closet and crept through the dark hallways, listening carefully for any sounds of footsteps. The whole place was very empty, which was definitely a good thing. The base wasn’t hugely populated to begin with, and now that all of the personnel had probably been taken prisoner aboard one of the imperial ships, it was even quieter. 

As they headed towards the main hallway that connected this section of the docks to the rest of the base, they heard footsteps. Reinhard held up his hand, and they both flattened themselves against the wall and listened. From the sound of it, there were two people walking past, speaking in the imperial language. 

“So Heinemann told me that he had put it all somewhere around here, so I figured I’d report it to you so we don’t, ya know, get in trouble for looting. The commodore’d have our necks.”

“I’m glad that you made the right choice, but do you actually know where Heinemann put the bottles?”

“He just said in a closet in this hallway.”

“I’m going to need a drink when we finish with this.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re finding the bottles, then, sir, isn’t it?”

“You’re killing me, Chensburg.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Reinhard glanced at Frederica, held up two fingers, and gave her a look. She hesitated, then nodded. The footsteps came closer to the intersection. Reinhard held up three fingers, two, one, then ran forward, followed by Fredrica on his heels.

They ran out into the intersection, startling the two imperial soldiers who were walking there. Both were young, and one was wearing a lieutenant’s uniform, while the other was an enlisted man. Reinhard tackled the lieutenant, who didn’t even have time to reach for his sidearm. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fredrica start wrestling with the enlisted man.

Reinhard came at the lieutenant from the side, so his knees crumpled sideways, and the two of them crashed into the far wall of the hallway, rather than him dropping all the way to the floor. Reinhard wrapped his arms around him, preventing him from reaching for his gun, and then smashed his skull as hard as he could into the other man’s nose. The man reeled backwards for a second, sliding along the wall, and Reinhard loosened his grip for just a second, enough to reach down and grab the gun himself. The lieutenant regained his senses enough to know what Reinhard was doing, and he flailed his arms and tried to push Reinhard off, but Reinhard’s fingers were already firmly gripping the weapon, so he let himself be shoved backwards, gun in hand. He had a quarter second to process the situation as the lieutenant lunged at him. Reinhard flicked the safety off the blaster, raised his arm without conscious thought, and shot the lieutenant in the head.

The imperial soldier crumpled to the ground, falling forward with his momentum, and Reinhard stepped out of the way. He turned his attention to Fredrica, who was trying to wrestle the gun out of the hand of the enlisted man, clinging onto his arm and avoiding him being able to point it at her, though not really winning the fight. 

Reinhard aimed his gun at him, too, and Fredrica saw and yelled, “Reinhard!”

The sound of her voice and the feeling of the gun in his hand reminded Reinhard so strongly of the moment that he had almost killed the deer that he didn’t immediately shoot. The man who was wrestling with Fredrica saw him and his face paled.

In the imperial language, Reinhard said, “Drop the gun.”

The enlisted man did, and the gun clattered to the floor. Fredrica immediately kicked it far down the hallway. “Take off your uniform,” Reinhard demanded. When the man looked at him dumbly, Reinhard said, “Now!”

So he did, pulling off his shirt and pants and dropping them to the ground, leaving him in only his undershirt and boxers. 

“Fredrica, I know you know the closet lock codes,” Reinhard said, not looking at her and keeping his gun trained on the now shirtless man. “Open the closest one.” 

Fredrica jogged a little way down the hallway and opened the maintenance closet. “Go,” Reinhard said, gesturing the man forward. He walked slowly, looking down at the dead lieutenant with fear in his eyes. When they got to the closet, Reinhard said, “At least you’ll have plenty to drink.” About thirty bottles of alcohol that had been clearly looted from the commissary were stashed inside the closet.

They shut the man inside there, and then Fredrica locked the door with the code. “What now?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Reinhard didn’t respond to her, but walked back down the hallway. Fredrica picked up the second gun as they passed.

Reinhard grabbed the dead lieutenant by his arms and dragged him heavily a little way down the hallway, ducking back into the closet they had changed out of their spacesuits in. He pulled the lieutenant’s uniform off, then changed into it. Fredrica got the idea and did the same with the enlisted man’s uniform.

It wasn’t a perfect disguise by any means. For one thing, Reinhard’s uniform had a line of blood on it down the back collar. He tried to cover it with his hair as best he could. The uniform was loose on him. In Fredrica’s case, the pant legs were far too long, and the shirt did little to disguise her chest. But it was better than nothing.

“If we run into anyone, I’ll do all the talking,” Reinhard said. It was an obvious statement, since Fredrica didn’t speak imperial well at all, but she nodded anyway.

Reinhard had to fight back his instinct to walk sneakily, and instead walk confidently down the hallways. They would attract more attention if they looked suspicious. Reinhard was a stranger to false confidence, but he was not a stranger to real confidence, so he tried to wear that on him like a cloak as he strode into a hallway where several enlisted soldiers were standing around talking. He ignored them and continued on towards the central hub of the base, encountering more and more people on the way, everyone intent on their own hurried business.

They approached their destination, and Reinhard said, in one less populated hallway, speaking in imperial, “You wait here.”

“Yes,” Fredrica responded, pitching her voice down as much as she could. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been life or death. He didn’t want to abandon her, but he also didn’t want to bring her into the central control room, where there was likely to be much more scrutiny. He hoped whoever was in charge of this operation didn’t have a good memory for who the junior officers under his command were supposed to be; Reinhard probably stood out as a stranger. For the first time, he cursed his wild mane of long hair. Vanity might cause his death. No matter.

Fredrica moved to the side of the hallway, where there were big windows looking out on the half-constructed ships. She leaned forward on the rail that separated them from the hallway, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Reinhard whispered under his breath as he walked by, “Stay safe.”

She gave a quick nod. 

Reinhard walked the rest of the way to the control center, entering with no trouble. The whole place was swarming with imperial soldiers, most of whom ignored him completely. The thing that captured Reinhard’s interest immediately was the status screen at the front of the room, which usually showed the various activities and schedules going on around the base, but now showed a map of the local space, showing a good sixty or so ships positioned around the base in a wide ring. They were helpfully labeled both with the ship’s name and commanding officer. Reinhard picked one ship and CO to pretend to belong to, one of the ones that was fairly distant out: the Grausames Mädchen, under Commander Barre. 

There were five ships docked to the base itself. One of them, the Ostberlin, had a small flag on it, and “Commodore Reuenthal” above the name of the ship’s captain.

Reinhard stood on the edge of the room unobtrusively for a moment, just listening to the chatter.

“I swear that the next person who radios asking when we’re leaving is going to make me lose my damn mind,” the lieutenant sitting at the comms position said to his neighbor, an ensign. 

“Can’t blame them for wanting to know,” the ensign said.

“I think we all have the same question. But that doesn’t mean that they have to ask it over and over. I don’t get the feeling that the commodore likes us sitting here.”

“Do you get the feeling that he likes anything?”

The lieutenant laughed, then sighed as he heard something in his headset and said, “Yes, sir. No, there’s no update. Yes, sir, I will let you know as soon as we receive word. Yes, I’ll relay that message to him.” He killed the radio and said, “See, I’m going insane.” He made an even deeper frown as the computer spat out a written message, printing it onto a piece of paper, which he picked up and examined for a second.

“You’ll survive.”

“Hey, you want to be the bearer of complaints?” The lieutenant held up the paper.

“To who from who?”

“To the commodore, from Captain Voster.”

“Gods above, I do not.” 

The man at the communications panel turned around in his seat, scanning the room. His eyes settled on Reinhard, who was still looking up at the big board. “Hey, lieutenant,” the man at the radio said. Reinhard was half startled by the direct address, but since he had been following the conversation, 

“Yes?” Reinhard asked cautiously. The man put a kind of evil smirk on his face.

“You busy with anything?”

“I was going to report that--”

“Great,” the radio lieutenant said, cutting him off, which was a kind of relief. “Two birds, one stone. Can you take this to Commodore Reuenthal when you make your report? It’s from Captain Voster.” He held out the written message. Reinhard took a few steps forward and grabbed it.

“Sorry to make you run errands,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Reinhard replied. “Where is the commodore?”

“Last I heard, he was waiting in his office on the Ostberlin.”

“Waiting?”

“For the order to let us get out of here,” the comms lieutenant said in a huff. “That you and I and everybody else want to hear so badly.”

“Alright. I’ll go there, then.”

“Very grateful.” The comms lieutenant looked at him. “Which ship are you from?”

“The Grausames Mädchen,” Reinhard said. “I came over on a shuttle because Commander Barre wanted to find out when--”

“We were going to leave?” the ensign supplied.

Reinhard shrugged, an exaggerated display of shared frustration. 

“Well, glad I’m not you,” the comms lieutenant said. “Good luck with that.”

“Should I be more worried about bothering the commodore, or going back to Barre without any updates?” Reinhard asked, trying to add realism to his disguise.

“Hah, the commodore’s fine, but he will be annoyed if you take too much of his time. Just hand him the paper and get out.”

“Thanks,” Reinhard said.

“Well, you’re the one doing me a favor. You should get going. You know where the Ostberlin’s docked, yeah?”

“I can find it,” Reinhard said. He knew his way around this base better than these people did, certainly. He headed out, back down the hallway. Fredrica was waiting exactly where he had left her, and they shared a momentary glance of relief as she fell into step behind him. 

Once they were out of sight of other people, in the empty hallways heading towards the docks on the other side of the base, where the Ostberlin was parked, Reinhard said, in the Alliance language, under his breath so that only Fredrica could here, “We’re paying a visit to the commodore.”

“What?” she hissed.

“I have a message to give him.” He held up the paper he had been given.

“Reinhard!”

“I’m not going to get another opportunity like this,” he said. “Should I kill him?”

“And then what would you do? Idiot.”

“I--” They had to stop their conversation as they turned a corner into another hallway, where there were a group of people standing around and talking. They were ignored completely, and they continued until they reached the docks, where he and Fredrica walked directly past the guard and onto the ship.

Ships were all basically laid out the same, even between the Empire and the Alliance, so it wasn’t that much trouble to follow the main hallways towards the bridge. Once again, he told Fredrica to wait for him, this time having her duck into one of the toilets and hide out as Reinhard went onto the bridge.

The commodore wasn’t there, and so Reinhard saluted instead to the captain of the ship. “Sir, I have a message for the commodore from Captain Voster.”

He was directed to a hallway outside the commodore’s office, which was in an area below and behind the bridge, accessible by a set of steps leading down away from the main dais portion of the ship. Imperial ships spent a lot more time on aesthetics than Alliance ships did, Reinhard was coming to realize, which seemed to be at a small cost to practicality.

Reinhard was about to knock on the door to the office, but then he heard voices inside, and so he stayed as still and quiet as he could to listen. He could barely make them out.

“I can’t believe that you’re wasting military resources and airtime to call me,” someone said, very muffled, in slightly accented imperial. “And I’m a busy person, you can’t just demand I pick up during the school day.”

“Do you actually have anything better to be doing with your time?” This voice was much clearer, so Reinhard assumed that it was the commodore speaking.

“Of course not,” the muffled voice said with a laugh. “And even if I did, I’d make time for you. How’s life on the front?”

The commodore’s frown was audible in his voice. “Idiotic, as usual.”

“Why, what’s happening now?”

“Muckenburger came up with this plan to give Admiral Whithorse a victory and get him back into everyone’s good graces, but Muckenburger seems to have forgotten that there’s a reason that Whithorse fell out of everyone’s good graces in the first place.”

“What is he doing now?”

“Let’s see, Leigh, if you were deciding to run a blitz action, score a bunch of cheap but ultimately meaningless points, what would be the last thing you’d want your units to do?”

“Lose spectacularly against easy targets?”

“We avoided doing that, at least.” The commodore’s voice was dry.

“I didn’t expect that you would lose.”

“Great, we seized a starship construction facility. But instead of just having us destroy it, Whithorse wants me to sit here and hold it.”

There was a moment of silence. “How many ships do you have?”

“Sixty.”

“Not very many.”

“It’s a matter of time before four hundred Alliance destroyers start breathing down my neck.”

“Do you have permission to abandon if they do show up, at least?”

“Not yet.”

“So you’re calling me to say your goodbyes?” The voice on the other end of the call was sardonic rather than worried.

“No, I’m calling you because I’m frustrated and am not going to take it out on anyone here.”

The person on the other side of the call laughed. “At least you can admit to that.”

“How are things with you?”

“They’re fine. Things are the same as they always are.”

“When are you going to ask for a transfer out of there? You could have it at any time you wanted, and a promotion, too.”

“Why would I want to leave?”

“I was under the impression that you had ambitions, Leigh.”

“You think I’m not accomplishing what I need to, here?”

“I have no idea what you think you’re accomplishing.”

“I’m at least trying to teach a generation of students not to go perform useless actions that will get them all killed.”

The commodore let out a little bit of a laugh. “And it’ll take fifteen years for that to bear fruit.”

“My laziness makes me patient, as well.” There was a very muffled sound from the other side of the call, and then Leigh said, “Who is it?”

A completely inaudible response.

“Should I hang up on you?” the commodore asked.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just one of my students. Come in, Kircheis.”

Reinhard’s breath caught in his throat, and he clutched the forgotten letter in his hand so hard that he nearly tore it apart. 

“I should hang up on you.”

“Don’t be rude, Reuenthal,” Leigh said. “I’m going to send Kircheis over to you when he graduates, well, either to you or Mittermeyer, so you might as well meet him now. Come here. Kircheis, this is a friend of mine, Commodore Reuenthal.”

“Sir,” Kircheis said. His voice through the several layers of muffling, and years of distance, sounded nothing like what Reinhard had remembered, but all the same, there was a quality to it that made Reinhard sure that he was hearing his friend, and not some distant relation or stranger. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Commander Leigh does know how to pick promising students,” the commodore said, voice neutral. “I’m sure it is a pleasure for me, as well.”

“All right, all right, I’ll stop forcing you to socialize with cadets,” Leigh said. “You can hang up on me if you like.”

“I probably won’t be able to talk to you again until I’m out of here,” the commodore said.

“Good luck, then.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended. In the sudden silence of the hallway, Reinhard remembered that he had an actual task, though he felt that he couldn’t go through with his half-baked idea of killing the commodore, or even taking him hostage. The tenuous connection to Kircheis that this man had inadvertently provided raised him enough in Reinhard’s estimation that he wouldn’t knock on the door, pull his sidearm from his holster, and shoot the man dead. Instead, he just took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” the commodore said.

Reinhard pushed the door open. The commodore was a young man, not yet thirty, with short dark hair and a tall frame, and he was standing a little ways away from his desk, looking at a screen on the wall that showed the current positions of all the ships in his battlegroup. Reinhard stepped in and saluted crisply. He took the opportunity to examine the board as well, seeing that one of the other ships that was currently docked was highlighted. The Falke-- was that where the prisoners were being kept?

“What is it, Lieutenant…?”

“Von Müsel, sir.”

“Have I met you before?”

“I don’t believe so, sir,” Reinhard said. 

“Hm. Well, what is it?”

“Captain Voster has a message for you, sir,” Reinhard said, and held out the piece of paper.

“Let me guess: he wants to know when we’re leaving?”

“Yes, sir.”

The commodore took the paper, momentary annoyance flashing across his face. “You don’t need me to give a response. I’ll get in contact with him personally.”

“Yes, sir.” Reinhard saluted again and turned to go. The commodore actually followed him out, which was an uncomfortable sensation, but their paths diverged once they reached the bridge, and Reinhard escaped back into the main part of the ship unscathed.

He found Fredrica in the bathroom, and leaned against the door to keep it shut so that no one could interrupt their quiet conversation. Fredrica had not been wasting her time while hiding in the bathroom-- she had broken open the first aid kit on the wall there and had used the roll of bandages to flatten her chest, which improved her disguise significantly.

“I think I know where the prisoners are,” Reinhard said. “And I think I have a plan.”

“Did you kill the commodore?”

“No,” Reinhard said. “I didn’t do anything. But I learned things while I was in his office.”

“Where are the prisoners?”

“On the Falke, which is still docked.”

She nodded. “What’s your plan?”

Reinhard quickly explained the situation that the imperial ships here were in-- how they had been ordered not to leave, which meant that Alliance ships would eventually show up to fight them. “If we can get on the Falke, and hide until then, when the moment is right, we might be able to take control of the ship and--”

Fredrica nodded. “Okay.”

“No other questions?” Reinhard was surprised.

“We won’t be able to make a plan until we figure out what’s at our disposal,” Fredrica said. “Let’s just go. The faster the better.”

Reinhard nodded, then stepped away from the door so that they could leave the bathroom, and the Ostberlin itself. He felt a little more comfortable back on the base, though it was an illusion brought on by virtue of knowing his way around. He could tell that Fredrica was suffering-- every time someone looked vaguely in their direction she stiffened minutely, trying to resist walking faster and giving them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter full of slowly escalating nonsense levels. We start out at nonsense level 1 (Reinhard having ego problems) and end at nonsense level...7 or 8. Congratulations to Reinhard on baby's first murder. To think that by this point in the main series he was a vice admiral. lol. the timeline of the show makes no goddamn sense whatsoever.
> 
> The chapter title and what Fredrica says to Reinhard in the beginning are both references to a fairly famous quote by Archimedes about the power of levers haha. 
> 
> I feel like the conversational pattern where Reinhard says/does something kinda dumb and egotistical, gets called out on it, then doubles down on his nonsense and also gets mad is a pretty common one-- he does it with Kircheis when he's talking about Westerland in the OVA: he takes more blame than is really due, then tries very hard to justify that, and ends up making a mess of it. Anyway, this is way less of a loaded conversation; it's just him being ridiculous for no reason.
> 
> Reuenthal is always having skype dates with the bros while he's out in space. It's a hallmark of his character. It's fun to make up names of ships. Reuenthal's flagship rn is the Ostberlin, and, although he is not appearing in this chapter, we can have fun thinking about how Mittermeyer's flagship is the Westberlin. :)
> 
> I decided to split the chapter b/c it was getting too long, so sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger! Feel free to tell me all about how evil I am.
> 
> Same as it ever was: thank you to Lydia for the beta read, original fiction at bit.ly/shadowofheaven and bit.ly/arcadispark , I'm on twitter @natsinator and tumblr @javert .


	13. Proclaim Liberty to the Captives

_ February 795 U.C. _

Like the Ostberlin, they were able to walk right on to the Falke. They needed to map out a few landmarks: where the prisoners were being held, where the bridge was, and where they could hide. The bridge was easy enough to locate. As expected, it was on the forward mid level of the ship, right along the main hallway.

The prisoners were a different story, and Reinhard grew increasingly wary as he and Fredrica wandered through the ship, trying to look purposeful so as not to attract attention, but there was only so purposeful that one could look while wandering. Eventually, though, they made their way to the far rear lower level of the ship, where they passed a door marked “Hold A”, guarded by several heavily armed guards. Reinhard and Fredrica walked past quickly, without further investigation, but knew that was almost certainly what they were looking for. Probably, there was more than one hold full of prisoners, but locating even one would be enough, Reinhard thought.

Feeling armed with that knowledge, they set about finding a place to hide. The good thing about ships, Reinhard found, was that they were all full of interesting and small spaces in which a person could remain undetected. 

They ended up in the center of the ship, in the engineering section near the engine, which was quite empty, since the ship wasn’t running. It was a space with a few unique advantages. For one thing, there was an abundance of small passageways and crawlspaces that led underneath the engine and connected the opposite sides of the ship. (Though, that close to the engine, the sensation of artificial gravity grew odd, confusing the idea of up and down when one crawled through the tunnels.) The engine room also, unlike most other parts of the ship, had direct communication to the bridge, and so it was very easy for Reinhard and Fredrica to hear what was going on as they slunk around. And, due to the acoustics and relative emptiness of the space, it was easy to hear footsteps when someone was approaching. 

They made their base of operations a large equipment closet, walls covered floor to ceiling with tools, floor stacked with giant spools of extra cabling, and the whole back wall hung full of the heavy protective suits that would be used if the engine itself needed maintenance. That was especially nice for Reinhard and Fredrica, because if someone entered the closet, they could fully hide themselves in among the suits. No one ever did, though.

It took four days before anything about the situation changed. This gave Reinhard and Fredrica plenty of time to construct a plan, but also was one of the most stressful and uncomfortable four day periods of Reinhard’s life, creeping around to steal food out of the enlisted men’s rec room during the night, crawling away through the passageways under the engine with his haul, sneaking to the nearest bathroom when he could, waiting breathlessly in the closet whenever anyone walked past, listening to the muffled talk of the crew. The tension on the ship was almost unbearable, both on Reinhard and Fredrica’s end, and for the crew of the Falke. They overheard increasingly uncomfortable conversations between the crew, and everyone seemed to be on a hair trigger, wanting to escape this region of space. They heard some discussions about a search being on on the base, presumably for them, upon the discovery of the lieutenant and enlisted man that they had killed and trapped, respectively. But no one searched the bowels of the Falke very thoroughly. Even as the tension grew among everyone, including the voice of the captain during his daily address over the ship’s intercom, the ship stubbornly did not move.

One of the greatest windfalls that they had during their waiting was when the master sergeant, in the increasing anxiety aboard the ship, came down and inspected the engineering section weapons locker, yelling at the technicians down there to be prepared and quizzing them on how to open it and what the procedures were. Fredrica memorized the key code. That night, when the watch had just gone past, they slipped out of their hiding place and raided the weapons cache. They didn’t think they had the ability to carry the huge battle axes through the ship (and Fredrica was not practiced in using one), so instead they grabbed all the cans of Zephyr particles that they could, along with all the spare energy packs for the blasters. 

Reinhard was actually asleep when the situation finally shifted. It wasn’t clear what woke him up: the feeling of the stardrive engaging beneath him, the sound of the all-hands alarm blaring on the intercom, or Fredrica shaking his shoulder while he lay on the floor of the closet hidden behind the heavy duty maintenance suits. He came to consciousness immediately, sitting up straight and wiping his hand across his face.

“Are you ready?” he asked Fredrica, though perhaps she should have been asking that question of him.

She nodded. “I wish we weren’t splitting up.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Reinhard stood, shaking out the stiffness from his legs, then offered her a hand to stand as well. “We don’t have time to change the plan, anyway.” 

They had thought it through very carefully, and prepared well, and it seemed like the ideal solution, but that didn’t make it feel any better to have to split up. It would have been nice to have Fredrica cover his back. But they each had a task to do. He gathered his sidearm and the bag that he had put together, an unassuming canvas toolbag that had been in the closet, filled now with makeshift grenades: the Zephyr particle canisters, tied together with disassembled blaster energy packs, with two bare wires taped to the sides of the cell. When twisted together, they would get hot enough in about half a second to ignite the flammable gas that the canister could release. They had both found a variety of useful tools in the maintenance closet, including a plasma cutter, which Reinhard took along as well. It was a slow thing, but if he needed to cut the lock on a door, it was required.

Reinhard was going to free the prisoners in the hold, while Fredrica was tasked with remaining in the engineering section and disabling the ship as much as physically possible. Both tasks would be vital and they had to be done simultaneously, so there was no way they could stay together. 

“Good luck,” Fredrica said, and grabbed Reinhard’s hand. He squeezed hers for a second. 

“I’ll be back,” Reinhard said. “Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t.”

They could hear footsteps outside the closet door, running by, but then there was a moment of silence in the corridor, or at least an absence of the sounds of people underneath the blaring all-hands alarm, so Reinhard cracked the door open, peered out, then exited, jogging down the hallway, trying to look like he belonged, should anyone see him. He knew his disguise was far less than perfect, at this point-- he was filthy from crawling around the ship, he hadn’t bathed in days, and his already ill-fitting uniform was wrinkled to oblivion. And the whole force here probably knew to be looking for someone in a stolen lieutenant’s uniform with long blonde hair. But the hallways of the ship were dark, and all of the crew were rushing about trying to get to their posts, so no one paid him any attention.

He remembered the path down towards the hold, but he stopped before he got to the corner, and listened. There wasn’t any conversation, nor were there any sounds of movement, but he was sure that the guards were still there. It would be beyond stupid for them to abandon their post, even-- especially-- during a battle.

Reinhard pulled one of his Zephyr particle canisters from his bag, pulled the release tab, and held down the activation button with his thumb. With his other hand, he carefully pinched and twisted the bare wires together on the blaster energy pack, leaving a scorched part on his thumb and index finger. Then, as quickly as he could, he tossed the whole assembly down the hallway and ran. He didn’t get very far.

Half a second later, he was knocked to the ground by the intense wave of heat and expanding air. His ears weren’t ringing, but the whole world sounded like a dim roar. He was lucky his stolen uniform wasn’t made of nylon or it would have melted to his skin. Even still, he felt his back scorch through the cloth. It was painful, but he had no choice but to ignore it. He picked himself up off the ground and ran back towards the hold, pulling out his sidearm as he did and holding it in front of him. 

The two guards that had been at the door were on the floor, not moving. From the state of their skin, and the way that rancid-fumed embers remained smoldering on their uniforms, they were dead, or would be soon. He ignored them and turned his attention to the door, which was made of sterner stuff than human flesh.

The keycode panel was melted off, so Reinhard pulled the plasma cutter out of his bag and began sawing the door open, carving just a swathe around the lock. He realized his hearing had mostly recovered when he heard the sound of yelling and pounding feet. He dropped the plasma cutter back in his bag for a second and prepared another one of his Zephyr particle grenades. He had four left.

Without looking to see how many people were coming, Reinhard threw the contraption as hard as he could, and dove back behind the corner he had come from. There was another burst, and again, he felt the wave of heat, though it was less intense this time because he was further from it. Clutching his gun, he returned to the door. No more footsteps could be heard, so he held the plasma cutter in his left hand and his gun in his right, trying to get the door open as fast as possible. He completed his sq uare cutting around the lock, then kicked the door open. It swung inwards, revealing a whole mass of people, about two hundred in the long room, looking at him with a wide array of expressions on their faces. They were all handcuffed and seated on the floor, with the cuffs attached to the wall behind their backs. 

“Cadet von Müsel?” one of them said, and Reinhard recognized the voice as Fredrica’s CO for the summer program, Commander Swift. “I thought you were dead.”

“It’s obvious that I’m not,” Reinhard said. He walked towards the wall, looking at how all of the handcuffs hooked on to the wall in a long line, most likely by very strong electromagnets. Reinhard considered his options, then asked, “You’re engineers. If I cut the live wire inside this wall, will it kill me?” He held up his plasma cutter.

“I’m sure they have it on a safety--” someone said, and that was all Reinhard needed to hear. He jammed the plasma cutter into the wall, slightly above the horizontal line where the handcuffs attached, then pulled it slowly down, a new, acrid smell of burning plastic filled the air. After about a second of cutting, a huge shower of sparks exploded out of the wall, and Reinhard dropped the plasma cutter as his muscles contracted wildly, his whole left arm burning and twitching. He shook it for a second, the sensation and pain momentarily distracting him like nothing else had, but then he realized that he had succeeded, and people were being freed from their cuffs.

“Who’s in the best shape, here?” Reinhard asked as everyone scrambled to their feet, stiff after having been kept sitting for so long.. “There’s probably only enough weapons for a few of you.” He was thinking about the guns that belonged to the guards and those who had come charging down the hallway. If they were even still functional after the explosions, that still did not give nearly enough for everyone to have one.

A few men raised their hands. Reinhard jerked his head at them, leading them out into the hallway and indicating that they should find weapons on the corpses, which they did, leaving Reinhard with a group of about ten armed people.

“We’re going to engineering first,” Reinhard said. “And from there, we’ll take the bridge.”

“Why engineering?” Swift asked. 

“Because that’s where Fredrica is,” Reinhard said. “She’s hopefully killed bridge control of the engine by now. Let’s go.” Killing bridge control of the engine was essential, because it would allow Reinhard and his group to take control of the ship’s power from the bridge. They would be able to, at the very least, prevent the Falke from flying away from the approaching Alliance forces. 

Reinhard and his newly armed group headed down the hallway. The rest of the freed soldiers followed after them, which was fine, because there would be more weapons in the engineering cache that they could seize when they got there. Reinhard led the way. Everyone seemed to be accepting of his authority, even though he really had the least on-paper authority of anyone. 

They encountered resistance when they went, much more than they had when it was just Reinhard in his stolen uniform. They had a vicious firefight coming around one corner. Reinhard, in the lead, narrowly avoided getting shot in the head, but the man standing behind him was not so lucky, and he slumped, dead, against the wall. Reinhard ducked back down behind the corner, peeked out, and fired his blaster a couple times, receiving fire in return. They were facing down a group of about ten people. In the narrow hallway it was chaotic and difficult, but their side had the advantage of the corner for slight cover, so three minutes of exchanging fire later, the last few imperial soldiers ran, and Reinhard and his group chased them, while the unarmed band behind him picked over the dead for weapons before following. The people they were chasing ended up going in a different direction than the engineering section, so Reinhard let them go.

When they had cleared a path to the engine room, Reinhard could hear a commotion inside, but the door was locked. The person who had the plasma cutter came forward, then and got to work destroying the lock. It took so long, and Reinhard stood there, clutching his sidearm, feeling real fear for the first time that, inside, Fredrica was in danger.

They kicked the door open and ran in, immediately under a hail of blaster fire. Reinhard ducked to the ground and took shelter behind a computer bank, peeking up over it to see what was going on, and firing off shots when he could. He was scanning the room for Fredrica, too, though it was hard to see anything in the emergency lighting interspersed with flashes of blaster fire. At least one benefit of the situation was that there was no hand to hand: because he had stolen all of the Zephyr particle canisters from the engineering weapons stock, they couldn’t use them. 

Through the chaos, Reinhard heard a high voice scream once: Fredrica. He dove out from his cover and ran towards the sound. In the confusion, his imperial uniform saved him once again: although he was running further into the room, no one wanted to take the chance of shooting one of their own side. 

He couldn’t see all of Fredrica, but he knew it was her. Her lower half was hanging out of an access hatch in the ceiling of the engine room, her legs swinging wildly as she kicked at the man who was trying to drag her down. The hatch opened to one of the many tunnels that they had found and used to creep around before now, and where they had agreed that she would cut the wires that connected the engine control to the bridge. Thankfully, there was no way for the imperial crew to get a lethal shot at her upper body or head, still hidden in the tube. 

Reinhard shot the man without hesitation, freeing Fredrica, who immediately pulled her legs back up, vanished for a second, then turned around, her eyes barely visible. They widened when she saw Reinhard firing across the room at someone. She raised her own gun and shot at a man further down the room, who had Reinhard in his sights. She hit him square in the chest and he went down.

Reinhard shouted up at Fredrica above the noise, “Did you cut the bridge controls?”

“Yes!”

“Did they transfer engine control to down here?”

“I think so!” She shot at someone else and missed. Reinhard was sheltering now in between two structural pillars in the crowded room. 

Some of the chaos was beginning to die down, at least momentarily. The freed Alliance soldiers had gotten the upper hand, and were now picking off stragglers, leaving bodies scattered across the engine room. Reinhard cautiously made his way toward the control console for the stardrive, and Fredrica dropped out of her tube to follow him, covering his back as he began to investigate, moving through the computer menus as fast as he could, trying to find the one that would power the stardrive down completely. Steering was still controlled at the bridge, but the engine power itself was controlled here, since Fredrica had cut the main cableway and control had been transferred. He found the command and pressed it without hesitation, feeling the immediate shift in gravity in his stomach as the ship’s engine began to power down. It would take a while to fully stop, but this was the most he could do to disable the ship for the moment. This was good, because it was probably removing them from the field of battle, but it also made the whole ship a sitting duck. They now had to take control of the bridge and its radio, or else the Alliance ships that were surely outside would shoot them out of the sky, and all of this would have been worse than useless.

“I need a group to stay here and make sure the engine stays off! The rest of you, arm yourselves and come with me. We need to take the bridge, now!” Reinhard yelled.

“I’m coming with you,” Fredrica said.

“Of course.” It hardly felt like it needed to be said. She had had his back, and he was glad.

To their credit, the Alliance soldiers reorganized themselves quickly, leaving a small group behind in the engine room, the rest following Reinhard and Fredrica. The battle only grew more confusing as they pressed through the hallways towards the bridge. They met more and more resistance, but the slowly decreasing gravity of the ship made movement difficult for anyone who was not nimble and adaptable enough to take advantage of it.

Reinhard was very adaptable, though, and by time the gravity was half of what it was usually, he was taking running leaps that brought him shockingly close to the enemy, pushing off walls in the tight corridors, and using his momentum to his advantage to position himself for a shot, then move out of the way of returning fire more quickly than should have been possible under normal circumstances. Fredrica was holding her own, too, able to quickly find her bearings and strategically fire on the more coordinated members of the ship’s crew. The two of them worked together in easy synchronization, exchanging glances in the moment that let them each know what they needed to do.

They reached the bridge, which was completely locked down, but it was a matter of minutes to cut open the door, while their group fended off attacks from either side of the hallway that they were standing in. They had originally numbered about two hundred, but had lost about three dozen people along the way, though the surviving group had been able to arm themselves and were now much hardier than they had been at the start.

The door to the bridge was finally broken open, and those directly in front of it were caught in an immediate storm of gunfire, several going down. Reinhard was prepared for this, though, and he threw one of his remaining Zephyr bombs into the room and pulled the door shut. The explosion from inside was almost instantaneous, and when Reinhard opened the door again, he saw that its effects were catastrophic to the people on the bridge. The wave of fire hadn’t killed everyone, but it had wounded them all, and many were stumbling around, burned or blinded. Since the artificial gravity on the ship was down to almost nothing, the bomb had gone off high in the air, which meant that more people were injured than were dead.

“Restrain them,” Reinhard ordered. “I need someone at the radio, and someone else steering. Find the captain. If he’s alive, I want him as a hostage. Get someone on navigation. I want the gravity back on.”

People obeyed him without question, moving through the bridge and tying up and confiscating the arms of the imperial soldiers who were now almost hovering in the air, the gravity being so low.

“Someone give me intercom control,” Reinhard said. “Where is it?”

“Over here, sir,” someone said, and Reinhard moved towards the indicated control panel. It would have pleased him to be called sir, if he had had time to give it any thought. 

“Someone give me eyes on the battle situation. Are we in the direct line of fire, here?” He trusted everyone to rearrange themselves appropriately to respond to his commands. Fredrica was taking on an organizing role across the room, directing people into consoles where she thought they might have the best chance of succeeding, and generally coordinating the capture and identification of the wounded bridge crew they were taking prisoner. She waved at him and pointed at one of the officers: the captain, who was still alive. Excellent.

Reinhard took the microphone for the ship intercom while he waited for the real radio to get figured out, and while someone else tried to pull up the radar images of the current battle situation.

In the imperial language, speaking crisply and clearly, “Crew of the imperial ship Falke. Your ship is now under complete control by the Alliance. We have taken your captain hostage. If you lay down your weapons and surrender, staying exactly where you are, no harm will come to you. If you resist, you will be killed. I repeat, your ship is under my complete control. Lay down your weapons and remain where you are, and you will be treated fairly.” 

It would have to do.

He fiddled with the console to address specifically the engineering section of the ship, this time in the alliance language. “We have control of the bridge. Get the stardrive back online as soon as it’s finished cycling. Forget the wait period. I want gravity now.” He felt the first touches of gravity return, pulling everyone gently down to the floor, but it was a slow process. 

By this point, someone had gotten the battle situation up on the big screen. They were relatively lucky, it seemed like, in terms of their positioning. Since Reinhard had managed to take out the stardrive, they had fallen to the very rear of the imperial battle lines, and were in no danger of taking fire from the Alliance ships, of which there were about five hundred.

Reinhard immediately noticed that something very strange was going on with the battle situation. The imperial forces were moving extremely tightly together, which put them at huge risk of crashing into each other, though none of them had, which spoke to good control on the commodore’s part. It was a formation like they were planning to break through the Alliance forces, but instead they were moving “sideways” and “down”, maneuvering the whole battlegroup to put the base in between the two forces. The base had not yet been destroyed, which was… odd. As the Falke was drifting without power, that left them stranded on the outer edge of the imperial battlegroup, pushed further to the outside and left nowhere near the rest as they moved behind the base. No one was firing directly at them, probably because since their guns had stopped as well, they were certainly being classed as a disabled vehicle and thus not worth bothering with, but Reinhard did not like their position, not at all. 

The alliance fleet was forced to move closer, spreading out around the base to try to flank the imperial group on all sides.

Reinhard saw the plan. He grabbed the intercom mic again. “I need engine power, immediately! I don’t care if it strains the drive, we need to move! Now!”

“What’s going on?” Fredrica asked, coming up next to him. Reinhard pointed at the screen.

“He’s baited a trap.”

“Full stardrive power in thirty seconds, sir,” a voice over the intercom said.

Reinhard planted his feet on the floor and held on to the chair of the radio console. “Whoever is steering this ship, get us away from the base-- break through our own line if you have to, just get us out of here.” As he said that, he felt the churning of the stardrive beneath him, and his knees almost buckled as far heavier than normal gravity shoved him into the floor: the effect of straining the drive.

“Get me on the radio with our fleet,” he said. “Have to warn--”

The radar image showed their little ship moving away. Whoever was steering it did a good job of slipping them through the crack in the lines where the Alliance hadn’t quite closed around the imperial battlegroup, which was turning tail and breaking through the encirclement. They took fire, but no direct hits, and they flew away from the base at the maximum speed that they could manage.

“I’m raising our fleet now, sir,” the man at the comms said.

“Give me--”

But it was too late to warn the Alliance ships that were closest to the base. The several nuclear bombs that Commodore Reuenthal had planted around the base’s structure went off all at once, obliterating the base and about a hundred of the closest ships. With the bright flash that destroyed their radar images, Reinhard couldn’t see what happened to the imperial battlegroup, but he assumed they were running as far and as fast as they could, still with a smaller force than the now-wounded Alliance fleet.

There was a moment of stunned silence around the bridge as the radar image slowly came back to the big screen and everyone processed what had just happened. They were all lucky to be alive. If they had moved fifteen seconds later, they would have been caught in the blast radius.

Reinhard stayed focused. “Do you still have the Alliance on the radio?”

After a second, the man at the radio said, “Yes, sir.”

“Put me through.”

“Yes, sir.”

Reinhard fought the heavier than usual gravity so that he could get into a position to speak over the radio to whoever was in charge of the Alliance fleet.

“Come in, Alliance fleet,” Reinhard said. “This is the destroyer Falke, currently under the command of…” He didn’t exactly know what to say here. Well, his pride wasn’t going to let him say anything other than his own name, so he did. “Free Planets Alliance Command Academy Cadet, Reinhard von Müsel. I have taken control of this ship and freed the base station crew who were taken prisoner. Please respond.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Reinhard thought about repeating his message, but then the radio came to life and said, “This is Rear Admiral Carlos Corbaccho. Where is the base commander, Captain Hargrave?”

Someone leaned towards Reinhard and whispered, “He’s dead, sir.”

“Captain Hargrave is dead,” Reinhard said. “I don’t have the details.”

On the screen, Reinhard watched as several Alliance vessels moved forward to surround the Falke. Reinhard’s natural instinct against such things wanted to protest, but he obviously wasn’t going to give the command to sail away. 

“What is the actual status of your ship?” Corbaccho asked.

“I ordered the crew to surrender, though when you board you may encounter armed resistance. I currently have the bridge and the engine room under control; the condition of the rest of the ship is unknown. I have approximately one hundred thirty armed base crew, though there may be more prisoners in the other holds of this ship. There are many wounded imperial crew who require urgent medical attention. The ship can move under its own power, though the stardrive has been strained.”

“We are going to board your ship. Please remain where you are.”

“Understood, sir,” Reinhard said. “I’ll give another warning to the original crew to stay put. And I’ll open the docking mechanism.” He signalled for the person on the ship status control station to do that.

Reinhard made another announcement to the crew, warning them to stay put and to lay down their weapons again. There was a heavy thump throughout the whole ship as the closest Alliance ship docked with the Falke. Reinhard tensed and waited, unable to monitor the status of people coming up through the ship. Fredrica sidled up beside him.

“Good job,” she said.

“You too.” He looked at her. “Are you going to take some credit?”

“I will when whoever’s coming gets here,” Fredrica said. “It would be confusing for me to jump in on the radio.”

Reinhard laughed a little and surveyed the room. He walked over to the Falke’s captain, who was seated on the ground, awake, and watching the bridge with an uncomfortable frown on his face. He didn’t appear to be fatally wounded, though his whole right side was badly burned. “I apologize for taking over your ship, Captain. I can assure you that you and your men will receive medical treatment as soon as possible.” He spoke in the imperial language.

“I’m sure, Cadet,” the man said with a stiff voice. 

“I won’t be a cadet for much longer,” Reinhard said. “But it is Alliance policy to treat prisoners well.”

He didn’t have much more time to discuss things with the captain, because he heard shouting from the hallway outside and he turned to see a group of armor suited Alliance soldiers making their way into the bridge. They readied their axes as Reinhard stepped forward, even though his only visible weapon was his sidearm, which remained holstered at his hip. For the first time, his imperial uniform was doing him a disservice.

“I’m Reinhard von Müsel,” he said, standing in front of them. “Who is in charge, here?”

“Lieutenant Commander Richards,” one man said, stepping forward and pulling up his mask so that his face was visible. 

“Then I turn over this ship to you, Lieutenant Commander Richards,” Reinhard said. “What are your orders, sir?”

Richards looked around at the bridge. “Cadet Müsel,” he said, “Do you know the location of Cadet Fredrica Greenhill?” 

Reinhard pointed at her, while she was standing examining the ship status console, and Fredrica noticed the action and came over. She saluted. “What can I do for you, sir?” she asked.

“I’m glad to see that Cadet Müsel kept you safe,” Richards said.

Reinhard frowned. He had been willing to take credit for himself, but he wasn’t willing to let other people assume Fredrica was incapable. “If you’ll excuse me for saying so, sir, but Cadet Greenhill saved my life, and deserves half the credit for this rescue.”

Fredrica turned to him with a surprised smile. “We worked together,” she said. “But regardless of credit or blame, I am very glad that this is over.”

“Indeed,” Richards said, clearly confused by this interaction. “Well, I’ve been instructed to escort her directly to Rear Admiral Corbaccho’s flagship, the Minnesota.”

“Shouldn’t you take care of the wounded, first?” Fredrica asked, looking around. “I don’t need--”

“I’m sorry, miss, but those are my orders.”

“Cadet, sir,” Reinhard interrupted.

“What?”

“She’s not a ‘miss’, she’s Cadet Greenhill, sir.”

“Yes, well, Cadet Greehill needs to be escorted to the Minnesota.”

“Alright. You should come, too,” she said, glancing at Reinhard.

“I only have orders to send you back, Cadet Greenhill.”

“I’d prefer to have him with me, sir,” Fredrica said. “And he would like to make a report to Rear Admiral Corbaccho.”

Truthfully, Reinhard wouldn’t have minded staying on this ship and assisting in whatever cleanup efforts there were, but he also would prefer not to be separated from Fredrica, so he didn’t argue. 

“I suppose it won’t kill anybody if you come,” Richards said. “Jackson, Sandovsky, Pietro, Jiang-- take these two back to the Blackstone. If anything happens to them, I’m killing you myself.”

“Yes, sir,” one of the other suited men said. They formed around Reinhard and Fredrica in a protective bubble. Reinhard was tempted to roll his eyes. He and Fredrica had seized the whole ship; he hardly thought he needed an escort. But he didn’t protest, and he bid a reluctant mental goodbye to the Falke, which he had grown both familiar with and attached to over the past few days, even if it had been under weird circumstances. His fingers brushed the door frame as he walked off the bridge. The sentimental part of him hoped the ship wouldn’t be destroyed for scrap.

* * *

They were given rooms on the Minnesota, after they had both briefly spoken to the rear admiral. He hadn’t been that interested in talking to them, and had mostly suggested that Reinhard and Fredrica both write down accounts of what they had done and what had happened. Reinhard didn’t know what they were going to use this kind of evidence for (and he suspected that a lot of it didn’t actually look good for him, even if it had had a good end result) but he wasn’t going to lie in an official record, so he resolved to do it as truthfully and carefully as he could, when he got the chance.

He spent a long time in the shower, getting days worth of filth and blood off of himself. His back was burned, worse than a bad sunburn but not enough to require medical treatment, so the cool water of the shower had been both painful and a relief. He didn’t think it would scar, but it was already blistering. He put on the clothes that had been given to him. There weren’t any cadet uniforms around, and he wasn’t technically a soldier at all, but they gave them each a regular Alliance uniform, just without a rank pin. There were worse clothes that he could be wearing, he supposed. 

They were given instructions not to go to the communal dining halls, which made Reinhard feel like he was under house arrest, but his annoyance at that was forgotten when he got real, hot food for the first time in several days delivered to his door, and he ate it without any complaint whatsoever.

Someone knocked on his door as he was brushing his teeth. “Come in,” he called.

Fredrica pushed the door open. “Were you going to sleep?” she asked as he emerged from the tiny bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth.

“Not yet,” he said. “I was going to write up the events while they’re still fresh in my head.”

“May I stay here with you while you do it?”

“Of course,” Reinhard said. “You want the desk, or the bed?” He put his toothbrush away.

She sat down on the bed. Her facial expression and body language were melancholy, and she stared at Reinhard as he took out a pen and paper from the desk drawer and began writing. He was annoyed by the lack of computer, because he was used to typing things out and being able to edit as he went. His personal computer and phone had been destroyed when Condor Base had been exploded, though, so there was no getting those back.

Fredrica watched him, and he read his first several sentences aloud to her. “Do you think I should start when we got onto the C-108, or should I give background information on what she was doing?” he asked. “Or should I start when the communications blackout happened?”

“I don’t know,” Fredrica said. “I don’t think it matters.” She sounded very unhappy.

“What’s the matter?” Reinhard asked. 

“You’re going to tell me I’m being stupid.”

“For what?”

“I can’t stop thinking about that first man I killed,” she said. “I close my eyes and I’m watching it over and over.”

“Hm, yeah, I can see how perfect memory could be a disadvantage in that case,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s okay’?”

“You killed him for me,” Reinhard said. “I’m very grateful.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I killed him.”

“So?”

“I know it’s war, and I know that I didn’t have a choice…” Her voice broke a little bit.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Reinhard said, “When the base blew up, it took about a hundred ships with it. Seven hundred crew apiece, that’s seven thousand people.”

She turned away slightly. “It doesn’t make me feel any better, no.”

“I’m sorry,” Reinhard said.

“You don’t feel bad?”

“I did what I had to do,” he said. “It’s not like I enjoy it, but I’m not going to beat myself up over it. When we meet again in Valhalla I’m sure it will all be even between us.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Reinhard shrugged. “Not really, but it’s the thing that one says.”

“Are you really that cold about it?” she asked. 

“Does it change your opinion of me?” He leaned his head on his hand and crossed his legs, not quite relaxed, but casual.

“I don’t know.” They looked at each other. “Does this change your opinion of me?”

“No.” Reinhard paused. “I already knew that you were a capable person. It doesn’t surprise me that you were able to do what you needed to do, when the situation arose. I respect you very much.”

“I know.” She didn’t quite look at him. “You knew that I would be able to kill someone?”

“Nobody knows until the moment it has to happen,” Reinhard said. “But I wouldn’t have been your friend if--”

“You only want to be friends with people who have the ability to kill?”

“I’m friends with Jessica, and I don’t think she would kill anyone,” Reinhard said. “But she’s not a soldier. You are.”

“I bet my dad thought I would just do administrative work.”

“That would be cowardly,” Reinhard said. “If you’re going to order others to kill with a pen, you should also be able to kill with a gun.”

“I’m glad you don’t think I’m a coward.” She didn’t sound happy, though.

“I never thought that about you.”

“Did you know you would be able to kill someone?” she asked. “You shot that lieutenant, just, like, without hesitating.”

“Of course I did,” Reinhard said.

“How did you know that you could?”

“Did I ever tell you about the night Annerose and I left Odin?”

“No. I didn’t want to pry.”

So Reinhard told her the story of how he had almost shot his own father, how holding the gun made him feel, how he would have done anything to keep Annerose safe. “I think I knew I could do anything that I had to.”

“And you really don’t feel bad?”

“How I feel shouldn’t make any difference. But not really, no.” He saw her face crumple a little. “I’m not saying that you feeling bad is wrong-- I don’t think you’re worse for it-- I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what to say to comfort her, and everything he did say seemed to be coming out just slightly wrong, or was being interpreted wrong, because her face kept twitching, and in the dim bedroom light, tears were visibly sparkling on her eyes.

She was sniffling a little at this point, and he wasn’t sure what to do. So he switched seats to be next to her on the bed, and tentatively wrapped his arm around her shoulder. They had just spent four days in very enforced closeness, often with one of them falling asleep on the shoulder of the other as they sat on the floor of their closet hideout, but this was different and strange in its intentionality. Fredrica didn’t seem to notice his hesitation, and she leaned forward into him and sobbed onto his shoulder as he rubbed her back.

* * *

Their arrival back on Heinessen was, to put it mildly, odd. They came in to the military spaceport and were hustled onto shuttles down to the ground in a weirdly secretive manner. Reinhard hadn’t even been allowed to call Annerose (or his mother) and he was feeling deeply annoyed about that. It was as though they were existing in an information blackout bubble, as Reinhard and Fredrica had also been kept away from the news that would have come in to the ship as soon as they were within decent radio distance of Heinessen.

Reinhard didn’t take the restrictions and babying well at all, and he was grouchy at the random crew members of the Minnesota as they tried to shuffle him from place to place. Fredrica seemed increasingly nervous as they landed, and was digging her fingernails into her knees as they sat in the shuttle. Reinhard leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay.”

“We’re in so much trouble,” she said back, barely audible over the roar of the descending shuttle’s engine.

Reinhard frowned a little. He didn’t think that they were, but the whole situation was uncomfortable and strange. It wasn’t just Fredrica who was engaging in nervous physical habits, though; Reinhard had his locket out and was rubbing his thumb over the front of it.

When they landed, the shuttle they were in taxied into a hangar rather than towards the main airport concourse. They got out, and there was a military car with tinted windows waiting for them.

“Can someone please tell us where we’re being taken?” Reinhard asked one of the soldiers as he and Fredrica got into the car. “If you’re not going to let us go home, I would at least like to know the reason that we’re being detained.”

“You’re not being detained,” the man said. “But your presence has been requested at the military affairs headquarters.”

Reinhard nodded, and stared out the windows of the car silently during the ride. Heinessenopolis proper was about half an hour away from the airport, and the buildings grew taller and the traffic thicker as they approached. Although Reinhard had spent a lot of time in the city, and indeed had lived there with his sister for a summer, he mainly approached by train, so he was unfamiliar with the car route, and it surprised him when the military affairs headquarters finally came into view. Their driver pulled them around the back, presented identification at the checkpoint gate, then drove them down into the underground parking lot. 

Again, they were surrounded by a whole cadre of soldiers and led up through the building’s elevators to one of the highest floors, taking back routes and avoiding the most public areas. Reinhard kept trying to look down the hallways, hoping to see Annerose (since she worked here), but there was no sign of her. Eventually, they arrived at their destination, the office of Chief of Staff Admiral Greenhill. One of their escorts knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Greenhill said from inside, and the door opened.

“Sir, your daughter and Cadet von Müsel,” one of the soldiers said. Reinhard bit his tongue. It really wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to remind everyone that Fredrica was also a cadet. She and Reinhard both saluted the admiral, and he saluted back.

“You may go,” he said to the escorts, who headed out, closing the door behind them.

As soon as they did, Admiral Greenhill’s professionalism was gone, and he crossed his office in long strides and wrapped his arms around his daughter. She buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him back, half laughing, half crying for a second as he ran his hand over her head as if to confirm that she was really there, and alive. Reinhard watched this with a feeling of detachment. Really, he was most annoyed that he was being denied his similar reunion with Annerose, who was probably in the building somewhere.

Greenhill pulled away from Fredrica after a moment, and then said, “Here, please, take a seat.” He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

Fredrica wiped her eyes on her sleeve as she sat down, and she smiled somewhat apologetically at Reinhard, who gave a small shrug while Greenhill was turned away, walking behind his desk. He sat down and looked across at the two of them.

“It’s rare that I find myself in a position of not knowing what to say.” He absently shuffled a few papers into a stack on his desk. He looked at Reinhard. “First of all, from the bottom of my heart as a father, and with my utmost sincerity as a soldier in the Alliance fleet, thank you.”

“For what exactly are you thanking me?” Reinhard asked cautiously. “You should know that… Cadet Greenhill… and I worked together. It is unfair to her to say that I protected her.” He squinted his eyes a little. “In fact, it would be more fair to say that the plan that I-- we-- came up with put her in grave danger.”

Fredrica looked at him, then looked down at her lap. “It’s not Reinhard’s fault,” she said. “Don’t blame him.”

“Blame him for what?” Greenhill seemed legitimately confused by the dynamic between the two cadets. “You’re not in trouble.”

“The impression that we’ve been given is that we are,” Reinhard said, rather flatly. “Since we have been denied news access, had our movement restricted, and I have not been allowed to contact my family. Not even my sister, Lieutenant von Müsel, who works in this building. Also, our sidearms were confiscated.”

“Did you really think you were going to be allowed to keep that?” Fredrica asked, her annoyance at him overcoming the weird tumult of emotions that had previously been in her voice and face.

It was clear from the expression on Admiral Greenhill’s face that Reinhard was already giving him a headache. He tried to tone it down. “I’m sorry, sir. If we’re not in trouble, could you please explain what our status is?”

Greenhill folded his hands. “That is the question of the hour, isn’t it?” He reached into his drawer and pulled out a folded newspaper, which he unfolded to reveal the first page. There was a picture that had clearly been taken from security footage stills from on board the Falke, showing Reinhard in his filthy stolen imperial uniform, with Fredrica right behind him, bursting onto the Falke’s bridge, guns drawn. Reinhard couldn’t help but notice how much of a mess he looked: his hair, which had been braided in two long tails, was coming wildly apart, and he was visibly unwashed, even in the photo. Still, he thought that the expression on his face was a good one. Vanity satisfied, he looked down at the article headline, “CADETS RESCUE BASE STAFF, COMMANDEER IMPERIAL DESTROYER” and the subtitle, “The daughter of Admiral Greenhill and the number one student at the FPA Command Academy, a former Imperial refugee, heroically rescued the entire staff of Condor Base, a starship construction facility near the Iserlohn corridor, after it was attacked and boarded by an Imperial fleet, page 1. How they did it, in their own words, page 2.” It continued from there. Reinhard lifted the corner of the paper to peek at page two, and saw his school photo from the previous year, and the text of the report he had written and passed along. He winced; it hadn’t been his finest hour of prose, and he would have written it far differently if he had known it was going to be published verbatim in a newspaper.

“The entire issue is devoted to this,” Greenhill said. “And I would say that this is representative of almost every news outlet on Heinessen, and probably everywhere else, as well.”

Fredrica was rather pale. “How did anyone find out about this.”

“I have my suspicions,” Greenhill said. “Regardless of the chain of command of the perpetrators, someone working in the information department here released everything to the media. It’s a leak larger than I’ve ever seen in my entire career working here.”

“What do you mean by everything?” Reinhard asked.

“All of the interviews with the imperial POWs, the entire log from the Falke’s critical event recorder, the reports from the base crew, your reports…” He took the newspaper back. “Everything that the media could possibly want to spin this into the biggest circus on this side of the galaxy.”

“I see.”

“It’s a very, very delicate situation we find ourselves in,” Greenhill said. “First of all, you aren’t technically members of the Fleet. You aren’t even a citizen.”

“Yes, sir,” Reinhard said.

“So it’s not actually possible or legal for me to order you to respond to the press in certain ways. You could make a fortune tomorrow if you wanted, going on television shows, and you could probably go into politics and win a small election by a landslide.”

“I have absolutely no desire to be either a useless spectacle or a politician, sir,” Reinhard said.

“You still plan to enlist in the Fleet when you graduate, then?” Greenhill asked.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me saying so, I felt that this was the most-- second most-- well, one of the most-- worthwhile things I have done in my life thus far. I don’t see myself as wanting to live life as a civilian. I didn’t before, and this hasn’t changed my mind.”

“And you, Fredrica?”

She glanced between her father and Reinhard. “I want to continue,” she said firmly. “You know I do.”

He nodded, an unreadable expression on his face. “I anticipated that you might.” Again, he reached into his desk and pulled out two small boxes, placing them in front of himself. “As I said, it’s a delicate situation. You’re still students, which… Perhaps the last year of schooling will not be the most valuable, but I think it would be a poor image to take it from you, especially as you are both at the top of the class. You do need to be officially recognized in some capacity though, so…”

He pushed the boxes towards them, and Reinhard took his and opened it. It was the pin of a lieutenant commander. Fredrica picked up the pin and turned it around and around in her hand, as though she couldn’t quite believe that it was real.

“You would normally receive a commission as a second lieutenant. Normally, double promotions are reserved for those who were killed in action, but there’s no rules against commissioning someone in at a higher rank. Luckily, since both of you will be receiving the same commission, we avoid some of the accusations of favoritism that might result from you being my daughter.”

“I’m very grateful, sir,” Reinhard said.

“You may keep those, but please do not wear them until you actually receive your commission.”

“Of course, sir.” He closed the box and slipped it into his pocket.

“And, although the promotion is almost guaranteed, I hope I do not have to warn you that your final year at the Academy could change things.”

Reinhard resisted the urge to make a face. “I am capable of being a well-ordered cadet, sir. And so is Cadet Greenhill.”

“Good. You deciding to remain in the Fleet does solve a few of the headaches that might have been caused if you were to leave it, but this is, all around, still not an ideal situation.”

“What do you mean by that, sir?” Reinhard asked.

“All of this was leaked to the media because someone thinks that they can use you. You, especially, Cadet von Müsel, lack the protection of having my name. I advise you to be very careful with those who wish to associate themselves with you. I don’t think it’s too early for me to say that you’re a rising star; don’t let people drag you down.”

“Yes, sir,” Reinhard said.

Greenhill looked them both over. “Aside from that,” he said. “Are you both all right?”

“I’m fine, sir,” Reinhard said.

“I’m okay,” Fredrica said. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I can’t help it,” he said. “I never expected, when Commodore Cazerne asked my permission to rearrange your summer--”

“I told you not to mess with it!” Fredrica huffed.

“Well, it was Cazerne,” Reinhard said.

“Regardless, I never expected that I would be putting you in danger. I know you say that you did not protect Fredrica, but I’m still very grateful that she had someone there she could rely upon.”

“I relied on her just as much, sir.”

“But I can’t help but be indebted to anyone who would help my daughter.” He turned to Fredrica. “Fredrica, please invite Cadet von Müsel to dinner this Sunday.”

“What? Dad!” He raised an eyebrow at her. Fredrica was clearly suffering under the awkwardness of the situation. She cringed a little, but said, “Reinhard, please come to dinner this Sunday.”

“I’d be happy to,” Reinhard said.

Greenhill stood, and so Reinhard and Fredrica both followed him up. He reached out a hand for Reinhard to shake. He had a grip that was just as crushing as Fredrica’s had been, that first time they shook hands. “Thank you again for your good work, Cadet von Müsel.”

Reinhard nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“I won’t keep you. Your sister is waiting for you downstairs. I am sure that we will be seeing a lot more of each other, from now on, anyway.” He had a slight smile on his face, and he looked at Reinhard rather like one might look at a prize horse.

“I hope so, sir. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

“Indeed. Goodbye, Cadet.” He let Reinhard out of his office, where there were other soldiers waiting to escort him to Annerose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't leave you hanging for too long haha. I hope you enjoy the end of the action! I really am not confident writing action scenes (and yet I end up having so many of them). Hopefully the tension here was right and everything makes enough sense :)
> 
> [insert some funny joke about Reinhard and Fredrica living in a literal closet together for several days]
> 
> Fredrica got to do baby's first murder. Reinhard is not good at comforting her.
> 
> I doubt any of the rest of you all are engineers (I'm an engineer lol), but there's a very glaring thing I like to call "intentional design flaw for plot convenience" living in these chapters. Think it through if you like, or
> 
> ! **hover here to reveal my dirty narrative secrets** !
> 
> Last chapter began with Reinhard musing about commandeering an Alliance ship, but he ends up stealing an imperial one lol.
> 
> I couldn't let Reuenthal lose too badly. Did he lose? He only lost 1 ship total. It's a mystery.
> 
> The awkwardness of the Fredrica - Admiral Greenhill - Reinhard meeting is so strong. 
> 
> Oh god I ramble in the author's notes way too much. Here's how it is: thank you to Lydia for the beta read. More ship theft @ bit.ly/shadowofheaven , other things @ bit.ly/arcadispark . I'm @javert on tumblr and @natsinator on twitter.


	14. Simultaneity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the timestamps: this chapter begins before the events of the previous two chapters.

_ January 795 U.C. _

Commodore Cazerne showed up in Annerose’s small office in the military affairs headquarters with little preamble. Since he was her direct superior, she supposed he didn’t need much of a reason to come to her office, but he had a tendency to startle when he knocked on her door at the most random of times.

She smiled and saluted when he came in. “Good afternoon, Commodore.”

“Afternoon, Lieutenant,” he said. “I’m sorry to come here and pester you.”

“It’s not a problem, sir. I have that report on the proposed sixth fleet renovations, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Oh, no. Well, I’ll take it from you anyway, but I came to have a more personal conversation.”

“What is it, sir?”

“May I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair on the other side of Annerose’s desk. It had a small embroidered pillow on it. She nodded, and he moved the pillow out of the way and took a seat. “So, first of all, don’t look so tense,” he said.

“I’ll try, sir,” she said, though her hands folded atop her desk definitely still held tension in them.

“I’ve come here to talk about your performance review.”

“Ah.”

“It shouldn’t surprise you to learn that you’ve done well all around, and I’m recommending you for a promotion.”

She was surprised by this, and her eyes widened a little bit. Cazerne noticed and smiled a little, saying, “Did you think you weren’t going to be promoted?”

“I haven’t been a lieutenant for very long, sir.”

“Yes, you have. Besides, for academy graduates, that’s just a stepping stone. It’s time for you to have real, independent responsibility. I know you can handle it, so I don’t see any point in delaying.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “It makes me glad to know that you think so highly of me.”

“I’ve thought very highly of you since the day we met,” he said. “Anyway, since the promotion is sure to go through, there are a couple of other things that need to be addressed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“First of all, you’re moving out of the junior officer housing.”

“I’m fine living where I am,” Annerose said. “I like my apartment.”

“I’ll arrange it for you,” he said. “Consider it a personal favor, for you to have a nice house on Heinessen. I know what living in the junior officer housing is like, and I really would not wish it on anyone.”

“It’s really fine, sir. But if you insist.”

“I do.”

“Alright. Was there something else?”

“A promotion to lieutenant commander usually means a different assignment,” Cazerne said. Although he kept his face perfectly neutral, Annerose couldn’t help but feel like he was biting his own tongue to get the words out.

“Will you really miss me that much if I ask for a reassignment, sir?”

Cazerne laughed. “You’re my most competent subordinate. But I’m not going to trap you here, especially if there’s somewhere else you want to go. And you should probably experience what things are like elsewhere.” He paused for a second. “There will probably come a time, sooner rather than later, that I myself will no longer be in this position.” He frowned. “If you were even two years further into your career, you could take my place. As it stands, though, someone else will probably be brought in to replace me.”

“Where are you going to go?” Annerose asked, shocked. “Please don’t take offense, but I can’t really picture you anywhere else, sir.”

“It’s policy to give… most people a taste of the front lines, every once in a while. I wouldn’t be surprised if, upon my next promotion, I’m sent to command a rear line base or something of that nature.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything, really,” Cazerne said. “Though perhaps I’m implying that I would not want your career to be stifled by you ending up under an incompetent commanding officer stepping in to replace me.”

“You really think I should request a different posting?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“I have, I just-- it was idle speculation, a lot of it. I wasn’t planning on leaving at least until Reinhard graduates.”

“He’s a senior this year. Now’s the time.”

Annerose bit her lip. “I’ll think about it.”

“What is there to think about?”

“Where in particular I would like to go.”

“Hm, that’s fair. If you have preferences, I can certainly make the arrangements.”

“Can I have time to think about it? There’s someone I need to talk to.”

“Of course. It’s not expected you request a new posting immediately, just within six months or so.” He looked around her little office, at the picture of Reinhard, dressed in his school uniform, and her mother, on the desk. “I think you’ll understand why you might want to leave once you do get promoted. Things around here might begin to feel a little too small. I know you have ambitions.”

“I do?”

Cazerne smirked a little. “I feel we’ve had this conversation before.”

Annerose laughed, then. “Yes, probably, sir.”

“Well, that’s all I wanted to talk to talk about.”

“I have a lot to think over, then, sir,” Annerose said as Cazerne stood. On his way out the door, he stopped and turned.

“Oh, and von Müsel,” he said. “My wife invites you to dinner this Sunday, at seven.”

“I’d be happy to come,” Annerose said. “Please convey my thanks for the invitation.”

“I certainly will.”

* * *

That Sunday, Annerose dressed nicely, wearing a light, short sleeved white blouse and a long blue skirt. She rang the doorbell of the Cazerne’s house, admiring their flowerbeds and holding in her hand a children’s book that she had found for the young Charlotte.

When the door opened, Annerose was shocked that the person answering the door was neither Hortense, nor Commodore Cazerne, nor the exuberant Charlotte. Instead, there was a total stranger standing there, a young boy, maybe about ten, with platinum blonde hair and a friendly face, wearing an apron. Annerose quickly double checked the number on the door, thinking that perhaps she had absentmindedly walked up to the wrong house. But no, this was the Cazerne household, which she had visited many times in the past. 

“You must be Lieutenant von Müsel!” the boy said. “Please, come in.”

Annerose, still confused, stepped inside the house. The boy held out his hand to shake, and she took it. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, raising her voice at the end to indicate she wanted his name.

“Oh! I’m Julian-- Julian Minci.”

It was at this point that Cazerne came around the corner and saw that the introduction had been made. “I see you’ve met my houseguest,” he said. “Glad you can make it, von Müsel.”

“Houseguest?” Annerose asked.

“I’ll tell you the whole story over dinner,” Cazerne said.

Annerose was ushered further into the house, where she presented her gift to Charlotte and promised that she could read the book after dinner. She found Hortense in the kitchen, finishing up the big bowl of mashed potatoes. Hortense was pregnant again, though not far enough along to show very much.

“Want any help?” Annerose asked.

“You’re a dear. Here, bring this to the table.” She turned and handed Annerose the roast. 

At dinner, they all discussed mundane things, with Hortense inquiring after how Reinhard’s summer program was going. 

“It’s going well,” Annerose said. “He was surprised when he and his friend Fredrica-- you might know her father, Admiral Greenhill-- were assigned to the same base.” She turned to Cazerne. “You had a hand in that, right?”

He just smiled and shrugged, the answer obviously being yes.

“Well, he says thank you for it. I think Fredrica would prefer not to have meddling on her behalf because she doesn’t like to feel like there’s favoritism, but in this case, I’d say it’s all right.”

“It’s favoritism on behalf of your brother, instead of on her behalf, which I think is a different thing entirely,” Cazerne said. “So she can’t complain too much.”

Annerose laughed. “It’s true. I worked so hard to get them to become friends, so I’m glad that they eventually did.”

“Really?” Hortense asked. “Why?”

“Reinhard needs some encouragement in that department, occasionally,” Annerose said. “He… Well, maybe it’s not fair of me to gossip about him when he’s not around to defend himself.”

“You’re a good sister,” Hortense said. “Reinhard is lucky to have you.”

“Oh, I think he knows that quite well,” Annerose said with a laugh. “But enough about me and Reinhard, who always manages to steal the show, even when he’s not here. You said you were going to tell me about the young Mr. Minci?”

“Ah, yes,” Cazerne said. “Julian.” The boy in question smiled, somewhat uncomfortably at the sudden attention. “He’s been a very excellent guest for the past few weeks,” Cazerne said.

“I’m surprised you didn’t mention him in conversation before now,” Annerose said. “Are the two of you related?”

“No, ma’m, er, Lieutenant,” Julian said.

“It’s okay,” she said, trying to abate his nervousness with a smile. “You can just call me Annerose.” He nodded at her solemnly.

“Julian’s father used to work under me, before I knew you,” Cazerne said. “Unfortunately, he was killed several years ago. Julian had been living with his grandmother, but…”

Julian was poking his mashed potatoes into a flat layer on his plate, uncomfortably carving holes into them as the conversation turned to this subject. Annerose looked at him quite sympathetically. “It’s very nice of you to take him in.”

“Just for now,” Cazerne said. “I need to find a more permanent place for him to stay. It’s not good for a boy to have the instability of not having a permanent home.” He looked at Annerose as though he were measuring if she would be able to fit through a narrow hole.

“That’s very true,” Annerose said. “Reinhard coped with us coming to Heinessen well, when he was your age, but he had my mother and I. I imagine that this has been very hard for you.” Her voice was kind and sympathetic, and Julian smiled a little bit at her.

“I do my best.”

“That he certainly does,” Hortense said. “You’re a wonderful kid, Julian.”

He blushed, liking the praise. “What do you like to study in school, Julian?” Annerose asked.

“I like it all,” he said. “But I think literature is my favorite subject.”

“Really?” Annerose asked. “Why is that?”

He smiled a little, thinking about it. “I like learning how other people think,” he said. “And literature is the easiest way to do it.”

Annerose nodded. “Not the only way, though.”

“That’s true,” Julian said. “I don’t want to study it for my entire life. I just like it in school.”

“You’re far too young to have decided what you want to do with your entire life,” Annerose said.

“I want to be a soldier.”

From across the table, Cazerne gave her a kind of pitying look, one that she didn’t think Julian caught. “And why is that?”

“My father was one,” he said.

“We can all be thankful that we live in a country where the status of one’s father does not automatically decide the status of his children,” Annerose said. “I am grateful that I did not follow in the footsteps of my father.”

“But--” Julian began.

Hortense cut in, “Annerose is right that you have plenty of time to think about it, Julian. You should find what suits you. Perhaps you could become a famous chef. Julian helped me with the roast, and I think he did a wonderful job.”

“You did?” Annerose said. “It’s delicious.”

Again, he blushed a little. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

He seemed overall like a very sweet boy. Annerose liked him. She hadn’t been around many children in years, not since she herself was a child, but she did get the impression that Julian was very well spoken and behaved for a ten year old. He reminded her a little of Reinhard, but without some of the secret fire that she knew had always been part of him.

After dinner, Cazerne said to Julian, “Julian, why don’t you go read that book von Müsel brought to Charlotte, and tuck her into bed?”

“Of course, sir,” Julian said. He ran off, leaving the adults sitting around the table.

Hortense poured Annerose and Cazerne glasses of whiskey, then sat down herself with a hot cup of tea at the kitchen table with them.

“You sent him away very fast,” Annerose noted. “I assume it’s not because you don’t want him to see us drinking.”

“You remain an excellent judge of my motivations,” Cazerne said. He folded his hands on the table, as though he were about to deliver a particularly dry piece of bad news to one of the fleet higher-ups. Annerose took a preemptive sip of her drink. “I’m afraid that I have a very large personal favor to ask you.”

Annerose glanced at Hortense, who smiled a little, though it was a sad and wan smile.

“I’m happy to do anything that’s in my power,” Annerose said. “What do you need?”

“Don’t say things like that before you’ve even heard what I’m asking. I don’t want you to say no, but this isn’t the kind of thing that I can simply demand.”

“Please, tell me, then, sir.”

“It’s about Julian,” Hortense said.

“What about him?” Annerose asked, rather confused.

“He needs a place to live,” Cazerne said after a second. “We’re able to host him temporarily, but with the new baby on the way, it wouldn’t be right to have him around forever.”

“Does he not have any other relatives?”

“His grandmother was an imperial refugee, and she only had one son, his father.”

“No one on his mother’s side?”

“His mother was apparently estranged from them for quite some time, and no one has been able to track her down. She may not be alive. I don’t think Julian ever knew her.”

“I feel bad for him.”

“Indeed. He has not had an easy life at all, but he’s good natured despite it.”

“So, what do you need me to do for him?” Annerose asked.

Cazerne paused for a long second. “I know this is a huge request. I would like for you to take him in.”

“What?” Annerose asked. She had not anticipated this at all. How could she just… take responsibility for a child? The thought didn’t quite sink into her brain, because it came with so many auxiliary questions and concerns. 

“You can say no,” Hortense said after it was clear that Annerose had finished processing the request. “But it would be a burden off my heart if you would say yes.”

“Under what legal authority can I even take in a random child?” Annerose asked.

“There’s a program in which war orphans can be placed into the homes of officers, as a sort of… introduction to military life. The fleet pays for their schooling, as well as providing a generous stipend for their care.”

“That seems beyond cruel,” Annerose pointed out. “If I were a war orphan, the last thing I would want to do would be to grow attached to another adult who could go off to space and die at any time.”

“It may be,” Cazerne said. “But it’s better than him having nowhere to go, and no one to turn to.”

“Is it?”

“Regardless of the morality of the program, it exists, and he’s enrolled in it. I would rather find him a home with someone that I trust, rather than leaving it to luck.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the most capable person I’ve ever had work under me. I know that you know how to take care of a child his age. I think you could enjoy having him around.”

“You’re putting me into nicer housing because of this?”

“Well…” Cazerne had been caught. “I won’t lie to you.”

“But you told me that I should think about getting a different position. What if I go to the front?”

“Your mother lives in Wrightsville, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“She could look after him while you’re on deployment.”

“That would be a lot to ask of her.”

“My own mother hated having an empty nest,” Cazerne said. “She might be more receptive to it than you imagine.”

“And what about Reinhard?”

“What about him?”

“He’ll be…” Annerose frowned. “Jealous.”

“Annerose,” Hortense said. “Reinhard is an adult. And a very capable one. Perhaps you’re selling him short.”

Annerose knew very well that Reinhard would be jealous, but she wasn’t going to force the point and make him look bad. “And how does Julian feel about you sending him away?”

“I’ve been as gentle and clear about this being a temporary arrangement as I can be,” Cazerne said. “He’s a very smart boy.”

“And how would he feel about coming to live with a random stranger? I’m not even old enough to be his mother.”

“How old are you?” Hortense asked.

“Twenty-four.”

“And how old was your mother when she had you?” Cazerne asked.

“That’s different than adopting a ten year old.”

“I don’t see how. Besides, it’s not adopting, really. More like a prolonged fostering.”

Annerose looked down at her hands, smoothing and worrying the fabric of her skirt. “What if I do something wrong?” she asked.

“You have always had too little faith in yourself,” Cazerne said. “I know you would do fine.”

“I--”

It was at that point they heard footsteps on the stairs. Julian stood with his hands in his pockets in the entry to the dining hall. “I put Charlotte to bed, sir,” he said. He looked down at his feet. “I heard you talking about me.”

“Come here Julian,” Cazerne said.

Julian took a few shuffling steps forward. Cazerne put his arm around his shoulder. “How would you feel about living with Lieutenant von Müsel?” he asked.

“I don’t want to be a burden on anyone,” Julian said. 

Annerose felt a sudden, strong kinship with him, then. She looked at his childish face, wide, downcast eyes, and the slump of his shoulders. She remembered her younger self all too vividly: the girl-child who still lived somewhere inside her, desperate to be useful, willing to be used, not wanting her  _ self  _ to take up any more space than was necessary. It had been wrong for the world to shape her that way, then, and it was wrong for this little boy to feel that way now. She put herself aside. “You wouldn’t be-- aren’t-- a burden, Julian.”

He looked up at her.

“What I was saying to Commodore Cazerne-- I’m more worried about being able to give you the support you need.”

“I don’t need anything,” Julian said. “Just a place.”

Annerose’s heart twisted in a peculiar way. “You would have to be patient with me,” she said. “I don’t know anything about kids.”

“It’s okay,” Julian said. “You don’t have to take me.”

“No,” Annerose said, and she looked at Cazerne when she did, who seemed to be resisting putting a victorious smile on his face. “I would be happy for you to come live with me, Julian. If you want to, that is.”

She knew she was making a life changing decision, but there wasn’t any other choice that she could make. She put aside her own worries, her own ideas of what her future might have looked like, and she smiled as warmly as she could at the boy in front of her.

His eyes were wide. 

“Do you want to come live with me? I know you don’t know me at all.”

He nodded a little. “Yes, Lieutenant von Müsel.”

She couldn’t back out now. The wheel being set in motion actually took some weight off of her. It was easier now to look at the situation and decide what had to be done. She smiled at Julian. “I’m glad.”

“Excellent,” Cazerne said, squeezing Julian’s shoulder. “I’ll work on getting the right paperwork squared away, for the both of you. You won’t have to worry about any of it.”

Annerose looked at him flatly, and he smiled to keep from cringing. She didn’t enjoy making her boss, whom she did respect, squirm, but he had backed her into a real corner. 

“Do any of you want dessert?” Hortense asked. “I have a pecan pie that Charlotte doesn’t like, so she won’t be sad about us eating it all while she’s asleep.”

* * *

_ January 795 U.C. _

Julian moved in with Annerose the same day that Annerose moved in to her new housing. Say what one would about Cazerne, he knew how to get things done quickly. Apparently, the whole moving situation had been precipitated by him watching one of his down the street neighbors make preparations to retire, thus freeing up the house that he had been living in. Annerose felt quite out of her depth on the street, surrounded by people of several ranks higher than herself. Cazerne told her not to worry about it, and Annerose tried to think through what the etiquette was for greeting her new neighbors, or perhaps her new neighbors’ wives. She was, she was fairly certain, the only female officer in the neighborhood. They were a vanishingly rare species, she was finding.

Annerose didn’t have a vast number of possessions, so it was only a few trips by car (and one trip by moving van, for all her furniture) to get all of her cardboard boxes out of the apartment she was vacating and move them into the house that seemed far, far too large for her. 

When she was in the middle of carrying in the last car-load full of boxes into the house, with the door propped open, Cazerne walked down the sunny street and rang the doorbell, Julian tagging along at his side.

“I brought you some gifts, Lieutenant Commander,” he called in.

Annerose dropped the box onto the ground in the living room, a veritable pile of cardboard growing up around, feeling disorganized and overwhelmed. It reminded her of moving into her family’s old house on Odin, but this place was in far better repair. Annerose wiped her hands on her pants and came out to the front, squinting in the dust-mote filled light.

“Good morning, sir,” she said. “And good morning to you, Julian.”

“Good morning, ma’m,” Julian said. She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair, which made him blink in surprise, though he didn’t duck out of the way. 

“This is a housewarming gift,” Cazerne said. “I expect you will share it, though not with minors.” He held out a gift bag with a wine bottle poking out the top. Annerose took it.

“Very kind of you. I suppose I’ll have to save it until Reinhard comes to visit me over his winter break.”

“It shocks me that you won’t find any occasion to drink before then,” Cazerne said. “I thought you said you were meeting up with a friend from the academy in a bit.”

“We’ll see. I might not be in a drinking mood for that meeting,” Annerose said, involuntarily pursing her lips. 

“I see,” Cazerne said.

“Did you want to come in? I’m afraid my whole house is not exactly habitable at the moment.”

“I’m sure the layout is exactly the same as mine, so I’ll save that pleasure for another time. I’ll leave you and Julian to get settled.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, then, sir,” Annerose said. Cazerne gave a little wave and turned to go down the street. Julian watched him go for a second, then stood awkwardly in front of Annerose, who laughed and held the door open. “It’s your home, too,” she said. “You hardly need my permission to come in.”

“Thank you,” Julian said, and stepped cautiously into the entryway, looking around.

“Would you like something to eat?” Annerose asked. “I can make us both lunch if you want.”

“No, I’m alright,” Julian said. “Do you want any help?”

“I’m happy to have whatever help you are offering,” Annerose said. “Though, please, if you get bored, you’re free to stop and go do something else.”

Julian shook his head resolutely. “What should I do?”

“Hmm.” Annerose led him into the living room where all the boxes were. “I think a good place to start would be to wipe down the kitchen and make sure it’s clean, and then you can put all the kitchen dishes away.”

He nodded solemnly and immediately got to work.

By the end of the day (with a stop for lunch in the middle), the whole house was liveable, at the very least, with both Annerose and Julian’s possessions squared away and the whole house clean. The place still looked very empty; the amount of furniture that Annerose had had in her small apartment did not exactly fill the space, but it was a start. Julian had worked all day long without a word of complaint, which had made the process much smoother. Annerose couldn’t quite figure him out. He seemed very cheerful and happy to help, but she was sure that there was more to him than that.

They ended up both sitting on the couch, not quite sure what to do around each other. They both had bowls of ice cream that Annerose had run down to the corner store to buy, and had changed out of their dirty work clothes into clean outfits. If it had been Reinhard here instead of the young Julian, Annerose would have been wearing her pyjamas, but she didn’t quite know what the etiquette between the two of them was destined to be on that score, so she was wearing her workout clothes. He had pulled on a fresh tee shirt and jeans.

She had the evening news on just as quiet background noise, but Julian seemed to be actively paying attention to it, his facial expression changing a little when certain people appeared on screen or were mentioned. 

“Interested in politics?” Annerose asked as she fished the chocolate chips out of her mint ice cream and ate them one by one.

“I like to know what’s going on.”

“Reinhard was the same way, when he was your age.”

“That’s him?” Julian asked, pointing to the framed family photo on the wall. It had been taken when Reinhard had first entered the academy, so both siblings were wearing their school uniforms, while their mother posed behind them with a wan smile on her face.

“Yes, and our mom.”

“He looks just like you.”

“Everyone says that,” Annerose said, glancing at him. Julian was studying the photo intently. “He comes off very differently in person, though.”

“Will I get to meet him?”

Annerose sighed a little. “The answer to that question is yes, of course, though probably not until this winter. He’s out on his summer internship right now, on Condor Base.”

He tilted his head at her, catching the tone in her voice.

Annerose laughed at the oddly prescient expression on his face. “I haven’t told him that you’re living here, yet.”

“Am I a secret?”

“No, not exactly,” Annerose said. “But I feel like the news would be better broken in person than over a letter. He and I are very close, which makes some things easier and some things harder.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t like it when other people take up too much of my time,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “I can’t really blame him for it, in most cases, but in this one, I think he would be making an unfair judgement.”

“You think he won’t like me?”

“I think that if I were to tell him that you were living with me before he got a chance to meet you, he might form a resentment about the idea of you.”

“I’m sorry for being a problem.”

“Julian, this is most certainly not a problem with you.” She smiled. “I might be making a big deal out of nothing. I think it’s certainly possible that he could like you quite a lot. He’s never had anyone younger to be a mentor to; he might enjoy the experience.”

Julian hesitated for a second, then said, “Can I ask a question?”

“Please!”

“Do you think that I will like him?”

“How would I be able to know that?” Annerose asked. “Does he look like someone that you could like?”

Julian looked at the picture again. “I couldn’t tell from just a picture. But you’re nice.”

“We’re similar in some ways and different in others. It’s hard to describe what Reinhard is like. Intense, mostly.”

Julian nodded solemnly. He seemed to do a lot of that. “I look forward to meeting him, then.”

* * *

_ February 795 U.C. _

There was always some kind of urgent bustle going on in the military affairs headquarters, so, at first, Annerose paid none of it any mind, and went about her business during the day as usual, which at this time was preparing for the fifth fleet’s next sortie.

She was on her way to speak to Rear Admiral Bucock, but as she was walking down the hallway, folder of papers in hand, one of Cazerne’s other staff members ran up to her in the hallway. Second Lieutenant Perchovsky was a twig of a man, and he was out of breath by time he caught her, apparently having been searching all over for her.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he huffed, “Commodore Cazerne is looking for you.”

“Why?” Annerose asked. “Is it urgent? I have a meeting with Rear--”

“He says it’s urgent.”

“Should I go tell Bucock that I won’t be able to meet with him?”

“I can tell him for you, ma’m.”

“Is Cazerne in his office?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what this is about?”

“I think the first fleet’s deployment.”

“What first fleet deployment?” Annerose asked. “That’s not--”

“You haven’t heard?”

“I’ve been busy all morning.”

“There was an Iserlohn corridor breakthrough during the night.”

“And they’re sending the first fleet out? Really?”

“Cazerne knows more about it than I do.”

“Oh, right.” Annerose had gotten momentarily distracted thinking about the logical reasoning behind sending out the first fleet, the one that usually remained stationed near the Heinessen starzone as a protective, emergency force. “Thanks Perchovsky. I’ll go find him. Here, give this to Bucock. If he knows how to deal with it, great, if not, he can give me a call and I’ll give him what he needs.” She shoved the folder into his hands, then went to find Cazerne.

She knocked on the door of his office and he told her to enter. He was standing by the window, looking out, an oddly pensive pose for him. Usually he was at his desk. She saluted, and he saluted back.

“You needed me for something, sir?” Annerose asked.

His face was very still, but Annerose could tell something was very wrong immediately when he said, “Please, Annerose, have a seat.” He never called her Annerose.

She blanched, and he waited for her to sit before taking a seat himself.

“I’m afraid that I have some bad news,” Cazerne said. “And I know you would prefer to hear it from me as soon as I knew, rather than later from anyone else.”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Last night, there was a breakthrough in the Iserlohn corridor. It looks like the imperial fleet decided to do a huge number of rapid strikes on small targets in the area. About forty outposts, mining operations, forward bases, a couple of frontier planets got the brunt of it.” He paused for a second. “Condor Base was one of the places that was hit.”

Annerose felt the blood drain from her head. She clutched the arms of her chair as though they could offer her any stability as the world spun around her. “Reinhard?”

“Per SOP, the base dumped its logs by radio to an ansible beacon about ten light hours distant when the communication blackout began. We received them this morning. It appears that Reinhard, along with Cadet Greenhill, were both on board a ship called the C-108 with a skeleton crew, performing readiness trials during the time that the attack took place.”

“What does that mean?” Annerose asked. “Where is he?”

“The C-108 has not contacted anyone by ansible.” Cazerne said. “We sent… A drone was sent to get pictures of the situation at the base, and from preliminary analysis of the wreckage, it appears as though the C-108 was destroyed.” His fingers worried at a piece of paper on his desk. When Annerose looked down at it, she could see that it was a photograph, turned upside down.

“How do you know?” she asked.

Cazerne turned the photograph over. There was the base, the lumpy asteroid, flanked by the clear profiles of imperial warships. Circled in red, then magnified in an offset in the corner, was a blurry picture of a piece of twisted metal, bearing white paint-- a fragment of a hull marking. The caption of the photo read, “Condor Base 795-2-15, 12:02 HST. Fragment of ship C-108.”

“And Reinhard?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“There’s a remote possibility that he made it onto an escape pod, but he hasn’t radioed the beacon. He might be waiting to do so if imperial ships are still in the area, but…” He paused and looked at her. “I think it would be cruel of me to make you hope in a vanishing possibility.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry, Annerose,” he said. “Reinhard is probably dead.”

Annerose stared across the room, out at the bright sunlight outside, and realized she was crying. She felt detached from her body and completely calm, despite the fact that tears were trickling out of her eyes.

“Thank you for telling me, sir,” she said. Her voice sounded odd, like it belonged to someone else. “Was that all?”

“Annerose--”

“I should go give my report to--”

“Annerose, I think you should go home for the day.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Her whole world felt like it had fallen apart, and yet she was somehow standing outside of it. Reinhard had been the star by which she charted her course for her entire life. She didn’t know what to do.

Cazerne stood stiffly and walked over to her. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I--”

The idea that Cazerne might feel guilty for arranging Reinhard’s assignment that summer crossed her mind as a thought, and then was gone, unable to hold on to anything.

“Do you want me to call your mother?” he asked.

“I’ll tell her,” Annerose said. “I should.” Her tongue couldn’t quite form the words, but she said them anyway, the noises tripping and falling on their way out of her mouth. She stood. “I should go, sir.”

In a breach of professional etiquette that would have been surprising if Annerose could feel surprised about anything, at this point, Cazerne wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a crushing hug. She stood there and recieved it, not really able, or willing if she had been able, to move her arms. Her face was wet, and her breathing felt wrong and funny, coming in little gasps.

“Can you drive home, or should I--”

“I can drive, sir,” Annerose said. “Please don’t worry about me.” Her voice was thick.

He let her go. Her arm felt like it weighed a million pounds as she raised it to salute. Then she turned and left the room.

The walk out of the building and the drive home felt like they didn’t really exist. One moment she was in Cazerne’s office, the next moment she was numbly hanging up her keys on the hook in her house, the house that Reinhard would never get to see, and sitting down on her couch. She stared across the room at the family photo. Reinhard smiled out of the frame at her.

Her hands trembled as she held her phone. She needed to call her mother. She needed…

Maybe she should have just driven to Wrightsville and told her in person. Maybe she should get back in the car and do that. As she stood up, she remembered that Julian would be home from his summer day program in an hour, and she should…

She dialed her mother’s number. It rang six times and her mother picked up. She sounded slightly out of breath.

“Annerose! To what do I owe this surprise call?”

“Mama--” Annerose choked out, and that was all she could say before she started sobbing into the phone.

“Annerose, oh gods, what’s the matter? Sweetheart?”

She couldn’t quite get control of herself. She hadn’t ever been like this before in her life. The tears just wouldn’t stop coming, and she couldn’t quite breathe.

“I’m coming,” her mother said. “I’ll get on the next train. Just hold on. Stay on the phone.”

It was this that allowed Annerose to say something. “No, mama,” she said through choking sniffles. “Don’t.”

“What’s the matter, darling?” her mother asked again.

“Reinhard-- he--”

“What’s happened?” Her mother’s voice was suddenly also full of fear.

“Condor Base was-- Commodore Cazerne says-- he’s probably dead,” Annerose finally got out.

There was a long, long moment of silence from the other end of the line.

“Reinhard?” Caribelle finally whispered.

“Mama…” Annerose said again, hearing the tears in her mother’s voice on the other end of the line. Some of that shocked her out of things. “Do you want me to come see you?” Annerose asked. “I’ll--”

“No,” her mother said. Her voice sounded distant now, too. “No, don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Annerose wiped her face on her sleeve. She didn’t know if she wanted to see her mother, if that would make things better or worse. She didn’t know if there was anything either of them could do to help each other.

“I think I need some time,” Caribelle said. “I’ll-- I’ll call you back.”

And then abruptly the phone call ended. Annerose’s hand unclenched and it fell down to the couch cushions, then slid off onto the floor. She didn’t bother to pick it up. She was transfixed by the photo of Reinhard on the opposite wall, and she stared at it in an intense, meditative stillness, not thinking anything really, for what could have been hours. She didn’t notice the passing time, just felt the grief come up in waves, threaten to drown her, then abate into a thoughtless emptiness. Tears would rise to her eyes and bile would rise to her throat, but she choked it down and sat there in that painful silence.

Julian came in the door later. He called out for her, having seen her car in the driveway, which was unusual for this time of day. She didn’t respond, but he found her in the living room, staring at the picture.

“Is everything alright, Lieutenant Commander?” he asked.

“My brother is dead,” Annerose said. Her voice sounded flat and wrong. But she wasn’t crying anymore. Her face was raw and red, but she physically didn’t have any tears left. “The base he was posted at was attacked, and the ship he was on was destroyed.” 

She didn’t look at Julian while she said this, and he just stood in front of her, his face sad and pale. Then he seemed to firm up, as though he had made a decision. He walked into the kitchen, boiled water for tea, steeped chamomile double strength with enough honey and milk to sedate a horse, and made her a turkey sandwich which he cut up into neat little triangles. He presented all of this to her, laying it on the coffee table without speaking. Then he sat down on the couch next to her, just watching her.

She drank the tea and nibbled the sandwich, and when she ran out of tea he got up to make her more. They didn’t speak, really. The afternoon light dimmed, and neither of them got up to turn on the overhead lights.

“I wish I could have gotten to meet him,” Julian said, in the twilight darkness of the room.

“I didn’t even tell him I got promoted,” Annerose said, the only thing she was latching onto as a cogent thought. “I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted it to be a surprise.” And she was choking on little half sobs again, and Julian leaned onto her shoulder, a comforting gesture, but she grabbed him and held on as though he were the only thing that was helping her to weather the storm.

In a corner of her mind, she knew that this was an unfair burden to place on him, a ten year old near-stranger, who had lost his own father in the same way she had just lost Reinhard, but she was selfish here, and Julian let her be.

* * *

Annerose returned to work the next day. She wasn’t pretending that nothing had happened, and she went about her day in a fog of grief, taking twice as long at even the simplest tasks, feeling weighed down and unable to move, but there was work to be done. Urgent work. Necessary work.

At one point, she caught a glimpse of Admiral Greenhill down the hallway, who looked more haggard than she did. She thought about running after him, but what could she possibly say? 

Cazerne treated her delicately, but she would prefer that he just treated her like normal and let her do what she needed to do, however slowly it took. She caught him speaking on the phone to Julian about her, that afternoon, and she half wanted to reprimand him for making Julian responsible for her, but she couldn’t quite string the thought together well enough to yell at her commanding officer. 

She spoke with her mother on the phone again, and she seemed in bad but survivable shape. She said she was staying with a friend from her church for the moment. Annerose was more grateful than she was concerned by that.

It was two days later that she remembered she had planned a meeting at lunch with Walter von Schenkopp, who, along with the rest of the Rosen Ritter, had returned to his usual posting on Heinessen. She was tempted to send him a message asking to cancel, but then realized that he had no idea why she would be doing that, and had no desire to communicate that over text, so she met him as planned, in a quiet corner of a sunny restaurant in downtown Heinessenopolis.

He looked the same as he had the last time she had seen him. He still had the same easy smile and handsome face that she had liked so much when she had been younger. A part of her knew that she still would have liked them, if she had been able to think about anything other than the yawning void of grief that absorbed every stray second of attention. She watched him as he strode through the restaurant towards her, grinning a little bit.

Schenkopp slid into the booth across from her, saw her expression, and said, “Are you really that upset at me?”

“Reinhard’s dead,” she said.

It took a long moment for him to respond, and his voice was appropriately solemn when he did. “I’m sorry,” he said. “How?”

“His summer internship was on one of the bases that was attacked earlier this week. He was on a ship, which was destroyed.”

“There’s no way he could be on the POW list?”

“It’s unlikely.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I was looking forward to him graduating.”

Annerose just nodded. The waitress came over and they both ordered coffee and sandwiches. 

“Are you all right?” Schenkopp asked. He didn’t seem clear on how she wanted him to behave, so he stayed firmly on his side of the table, not leaning towards her, just stirring his coffee endlessly.

“No,” she said. “But there’s no way to be all right.”

“I understand,” he said.

“I think, maybe, it’s better if we talk about something else,” Annerose said. Her face had been growing progressively hotter as she sat there, the sure sign that tears were about to break past the dam of her eyes, so she tried to change the subject.

“Whatever you like,” Schenkopp said.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve had better times in my life,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“You heard about Van Fleet?” Schenkopp asked. Of course she had heard of it; it had been the talk of the military affairs building for months, the most exciting action that they had seen in a while. She just nodded, though. “Did I tell you that I was on 4-2?”

“You didn’t tell me, but I look where the Rosen Ritter go,” Annerose said. “I saw that the regimental leader died. I’m sorry.”

“There are worse things to happen to a person,” Schenkopp said. “I’m the interim regimental leader, now.”

“Interim?”

“They’re refusing to make it official.”

“Why?”

“Personality conflicts. Rear Admiral Cerebrese doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“They’ll have to confirm me eventually.”

“Should I congratulate you?”

“If you like.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll be regimental leader lucky number thirteen.”

“Is that lucky?”

“Depends on your point of view.” He smiled a little. “A lot of people believe I’m going to go back to the Empire.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“That’s good.”

“You really shouldn’t just believe people when they say things like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Annerose said. “I can’t bring myself to feel that curious about people’s secret motivations, or anything, right now.”

“I understand.”

“I should ask you what I wanted to ask you,” Annerose said.

“Please do,” Schenkopp said. “I don’t want to delay you if you want to leave.”

“I would like to join the Rosen Ritter,” she said.

“Why?”

“Commodore Cazerne says I should find other experiences than here,” Annerose said. “You offered me a position there, once. I would like to take it.”

“Things were different then.”

“Yes.”

“I am not saying that you shouldn’t join the Rosen Ritter because I think you’re weak. I know you think that I am, but that’s not the reason.”

“Then why not?” Annerose’s voice was flat. She might have, in a different time, been arguing more passionately for her case, or against Schenkopp’s, but she wanted to state her business and then leave, lay down in a dark room for a while and think about nothing.

“Der Decken died on 4-2,” he said.

“So did many other people.”

“That’s true.” Schenkopp looked away from her for a second. “Including someone I cared about.”

“A woman?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s war.”

“What was her name?”

“Valerie Fitzsimmons,” Schenkopp said.

“What was she like?” Annerose’s voice was flat. There was curiosity, somewhere in her mind, and jealousy somewhere else, but really she just wanted to hear Schenkopp talk.

Schenkopp paused. “She was… Pragmatic. Intelligent. She was older than I was, by a few years. She was divorced, no kids.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know. She was important to you. I just--” She stopped talking and looked down at the table. He was quiet for a second.

“Yes, she was beautiful,” he said. “She used to joke about how we would eventually break up, usually when one of our postings on 4-2 was over.” He shook his head. “I wish we could have played that out for real. It would have made her laugh.”

Annerose didn’t know why she had asked, and now she almost regretted it. It felt like she was prying into something that she had no right to. It wasn’t as though they had anything between them anymore.

“Was she in the Rosen Ritter?”

“No, she was an air defense system controller, assigned to the base itself. Fitzsimmons isn’t exactly an imperial name.”

“Could have been her former husband’s.” She didn’t know why she kept talking.

“No, she never took his name when they married.”

“Oh.”

“She was like that.” It was the sad wistfulness in his voice that was pulling at Annerose’s heart, she realized, so she had to change the subject. She couldn’t keep thinking about this, not now.

“So why should that stop me from joining the Rosen Ritter?”

“Because I wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

“I thought there was nothing between us anymore.” She wasn’t really upset about that, on a conscious level, though the unconscious one was a different story. She could feel the echoes of feelings in her chest, but they were so tied up and underneath her grief that she couldn’t pull them out to examine.

“There’s not?”

“Not right now, Walter,” she said. “I can’t.” Her voice broke a little.

“I know. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She shook her head, hair falling down around her eyes. She tucked it back behind her ears. “So, that’s not a good reason,” she said. “Please.”

“Why do you want to, so badly?”

“I don’t have anything left to lose.”

“I’m not going to let you join my regiment because you’re suicidal, Annerose.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Perhaps.”

She looked down at her hands. “I need to do something,” she said. “I know--” She tried to voice her next thought as carefully as possible, picking up her coffee in a hand that shook only a tiny bit. “Reinhard would have wanted me to make my own path. I don’t want to be trapped in a desk my entire career-- I guess because I’m a woman that’s what people expect-- and you wouldn’t treat me any differently. I wanted this before, and I’m trying to remember the reasons why I wanted it. Now I just need to do anything, I don’t care what. Sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m not making sense even to myself. I--”

One of her hands was laying on the table. Schenkopp reached over towards it, not quite touching her, hovering his hand somewhat above hers, asking for permission. She could feel the warmth of it, waiting for her. She covered her face with her right hand, but the fingers of her left hand on the table reached up towards Schenkopp’s palm. He covered her hand with his, then, and it was a small comfort.

“Give it time, Annerose,” he said. “Just for now.”

She nodded, still not uncovering her face, trying to stifle her tears.

Schenkopp continued talking, his voice low and soothing. “You should meet Blumhart and Linz. I’ll introduce you. I’m sure you’ll like them. Is that all right?”

She just kept nodding, and he kept saying things, though she didn’t think she was really hearing them.

* * *

The next night, at around three in the morning, Annerose was fitfully asleep, dreaming a nightmare that might have been more miserable had it not been so mundane, the same recurring dream she had been dreaming since they left Odin. She woke to someone shaking her shoulder.

“Reinhard?” she asked, catching a glimpse of blonde hair, then abruptly remembering that Reinhard was dead, and it was Julian waking her up. He was dressed in his pyjamas and his hair was sticking out at all angles, having also clearly been just roused from his sleep. “Sorry, Julian, what is it?” Annerose asked, fighting past the misery that had threatened to overwhelm her for a second.

“Commodore Cazerne was ringing the doorbell,” Julian said. “I let him into the kitchen.”

Julian stepped back, since he had been leaning over her. Annerose sat up in bed, her own pyjamas falling loosely over her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around herself, cold suddenly now that the blanket was down around her lap. “I’ll get dressed,” she said. “Can you make him some tea or something?”

“He says it’s very urgent.”

“I’m coming,” Annerose said, and Julian left the room, leaving her in the quasi-darkness by herself. She took a few steadying, deep breaths, then got up and pulled on the first outfit that fell to hand, which happened to be the uniform she had worn the day before.. She pulled her hair back into a rough ponytail as she walked out to the kitchen, then rubbed her face on her sleeve.

Cazerne was sitting at her kitchen table, unusually in civilian clothing. “Oh, good, you’re dressed,” he said when she came in, blinking in the sudden harsh light of the kitchen. She fumbled a weak salute at him, since she figured he was here on business. “We should get going.”

“What’s going on, sir?”

“Admiral Greenhill knows something that you and I don’t,” Cazerne said. “I suspect that you would like to find out what that is.”

The words didn’t really make sense.

“Come on. I’m going to drive us both to HQ. I think time is of the essence,” he said, standing. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep, Julian.”

“It’s no problem, sir,” he said. He handed Annerose a thermos of tea, which she gratefully accepted.

“Thank you, Julian,” she said, and ruffled his hair as she walked past, something she had used to do to Reinhard, but now--

Cazerne’s car was idling outside her house; he had left it on the whole time. She slid into the passenger seat next to him.

“What is this about, really, sir?”

“I had one of the night guards who owes me a favor let me know if Admiral Greenhill came in to HQ unexpectedly, any time over the next few days. The first fleet should have reached their destinations by now.”

“Commodore… I appreciate the thought, but you also told me not to pin my hopes onto something unlikely.”

Cazerne glanced away from the dark road rushing past to look at her. “I agree,” he said after a second. “It’s very unlikely that your brother is still alive. But regardless, you may also wish to see the reports come in that the ones who killed him have been destroyed.”

“Is this some kind of test of my personality, sir?” Annerose asked, staring out the window. She saw a deer standing at the side of the road as they left the suburbs, lifting its head, eyes catching the car’s headlights.

“If it is, then I’m the one who’s failing it,” Cazerne said. They drove in silence the rest of the way. The more alert and awake Annerose felt, the more grimy she felt, and as they walked into the cool and bright lobby of the military affairs headquarters, Annerose felt more out of place than she had since she was first walking in as an intern.

Cazerne led her up many floors, to a room where people were streaming in and out, each intent on their own business. She and Cazerne pushed their way through into the room, and since no one stopped them, and several people nodded at Cazerne, she presumed it wasn’t wrong for them to be there. 

At the front of the room was a huge projected map, showing the positions of various subsets of the first fleet scattered around the exit to the Iserlohn corridor. She thought she knew now why the first fleet had been sent out rather than any of the others: since it was the stationary Heinessen defense fleet, it was generally in a state of readiness, and it was also the fleet that was most used to sending out small detachments to work individually, since it was responsible also for chasing down pirate vessels and the like. Because the blitz actions of the imperial fleet had been small and spread out in a wide swathe across the “mouth” of the Iserlohn corridor, it made sense that the first fleet could split up and handle each smaller engagement.

Further screens around the walls tracked the status of each one of these engagements. Some had no information other than the last noted position of the battlegroup in question, others had detailed logs indicating ship losses and the status of the battle. Most people were focused on the largest engagement, the one which was being personally overseen by Admiral Kubersly, who commanded the entire first fleet. Annerose scanned the edge of the room until she found the one screen showing the status around Condor Base. Messages were appearing on the screen as information trickled in, including detailed positioning data from the battlegroup showing where each ship was in relation to the base itself, which she was surprised had not been destroyed.

Annerose watched with tension mounting in her shoulders as the battlegroup approached the base, and saw the dots that represented the imperial ships begin to move.

She leaned towards Cazerne. “Is this live, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, until the imperial fleet starts jamming communications,” he said. “Then we’ll have to wait for the radio relay, or, more likely, the end of engagement report.”

“Why don’t they?”

Cazerne glanced at her. “The same reason they’re sitting there like bottles lined up to be shot off a fence: they’re waiting for orders, I’d imagine.”

The absurdity of that cut through Annerose’s fog of thoughts. “Stupid,” she muttered.

“I don’t disagree.”

It seemed utterly unfair that her brother could have been killed by an enemy who didn’t even know to pull its ships back from a battle in which they were hopelessly outnumbered. She could see on the screen that the Alliance battlegroup heading towards Condor Base was about four hundred strong, while the imperial group had a maximum of about sixty ships.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe as the two groups exchanged the first few bouts of fire, the imperial group moving out away from the base to attack. Their commander seemed incompetent. Didn’t he know that there was no way he could win? Although the overarching strategy seemed wrong, the individual ships in the imperial fleet were successful in picking off a few Alliance vessels.

The damage reports of each individual ship trickled in below the moving images, a litany of names.

> Count of Monte Cristo, disabled

> Exodus, all hands lost

> Albany, all hands lost

> Petrograd, disabled

> Amazonia, all hands abandon ship

> Erebus, disabled

The list went on.

Eventually, though, the Alliance battlegroup reorganized its lines to ward off the fierce charge of the relatively small imperial force, and pressed them backwards towards the base. Annerose watched with growing concern as the imperial force moved backwards, hiding behind the base. As they moved out of line of sight, they vanished from the screen.

“Are they not running because they have orders to stay?” Annerose asked. She didn’t like the way the Alliance ships were drawing closer and closer to the base, spreading out to try to pincer attack the hidden imperial ships. They began popping back into view on the display as the first Alliance ships rounded the side of the base. They were running now. “Commodore--”

“You see it too?” he asked quietly.

“Why don’t they circle wider?”

“They’re aiming for speed,” he said. “And they want to defend the base-- put themselves in between.”

“Should we tell someone?”

Cazerne shook his head.

“But--”

The data stream froze.

“There’s the jamming,” Cazerne said. He chuckled a little bit, even though both he and Annerose could see that the situation was probably about to be unpleasant for the Alliance forces.

“What’s so funny?”

“If the imperial forces jam communications themselves as they retreat, they can pretend to their superiors that it was our side doing the jamming, and thus they couldn’t receive the order to stay put or retreat, and acted under their own best judgement. That’s my thought, anyway.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t that funny for Annerose, because now she was staring at the still Alliance ships circling the base, frozen in time many light-years away, completely out of reach. She couldn’t stop staring at this moment that she was sure was about to precede disaster. 

Cazerne grabbed her shoulder and tugged on her gently. “That’s all there is to see for now,” he said. “Let’s go get a coffee.”

“What if the jamming ends?”

“Come on, von Müsel,” he said. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I think we don’t need to be here for that.”

She thought about protesting, but then knew he was right. They sat together in one of the cafeterias on the lower floors, totally empty now, with all the food serving stations closed. The coffee machines were always working, though.

“Why are we here?” Annerose asked after a minute, dumping several little creamers into her coffee. 

“Do you not want to see this?” he asked.

“It feels worse to watch things happen that I have no control over.”

“I’m surprised that you didn’t already know that that is the very essence of being in the fleet.”

“You always seem to have control over everything, sir.”

“I think you’re sorely mistaken about that,” Cazerne said, frowning. “No matter who you are, there’s decisions that are going to be made above your head that you can do nothing about. The best you can do is live with it.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know you are, von Müsel.”

She stirred her coffee. “I informally asked for a transfer,” she said, finally.

“To where?”

“The Rosen Ritter.”

He nodded. “You mentioned that before. I wasn’t sure if you were still interested.”

“I don’t know what I’m interested in.”

“What do you mean by informally asking?”

“I’m friends with the interim regimental leader.”

“Ah.” Cazerne looked at her intently and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “And what did he say?”

“He’ll think about it.”

“And do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Probably.”

“Congratulations.”

“I don’t know if it’s something to be congratulated on.” She smoothed out the fabric of her pants. “He thinks I’ll get myself killed.”

“And will you?”

“Did I think Reinhard was going to get himself killed?”

Cazerne nodded. “I wish that I hadn’t had his posting changed.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.”

They sat there for a while, Cazerne turning the conversation to far less fraught matters like their current work projects. Despite the coffee, Annerose began to yawn. Cazerne told her to go up to her office-- she could take a nap there-- and he would wake her up if anything urgent happened, like the POW list coming in. She didn’t want to, at first, but then he pointed out that they weren’t going to hear anything until the end of engagement report came back, so she might as well get some rest.

She did so, laying her head on her desk in her tiny office, the first morning light beginning to peek through the blinds on her window. 

Cazerne came by again. Time had lost most of its meaning to her, so she wasn’t sure when it was that he knocked on her door. She sat up, feeling sore. “Come in.”

“You should read this,” he said, and handed her a tablet.

She blinked the sleep out of her eyes. It was the end of engagement report that had come through. She skimmed it.

**Executive summary:** Condor base destroyed in pre-planned nuclear attack. Battlegroup sustained severe damage (93 ships lost). Imperial destroyer Falke being used as prison ship was commandeered by POW. Majority of base personnel rescued. 

**Attachments:** Timeline, full battlegroup logs, ship damage report, casualties report (forthcoming/tbd), base crew report (forthcoming/tbd), POW list (forthcoming/tbd)

She bit her lip and put it back down, not wanting to read through the whole timeline of the battle. “I’m glad the base crew was rescued.”

“Go to the end of the timeline,” Cazerne said, quietly.

She did. There, right at the end of the timeline, was a single, innocuous sentence.  _ Cadet Fredrica Greenhill was among those aboard the Falke. She was escorted to the flagship Minnesota.  _

“She was with Reinhard on the C-108,” Cazerne said, when Annerose put the tablet down again. “Maybe…”

“When will we have the base personnel list?” Annerose asked. She hated the hope that was in her chest suddenly, threatening to overwhelm her. She didn’t want to hope that Reinhard was alive, because if she hoped for that, and then found out that he was dead, she would have to face the grief all over again, even though nothing had really changed. She didn’t think she could bear that fresh agony a second time, though she knew she would have to.

“I don’t know. Probably when the written reports start coming in. Maybe this afternoon.”

“Can I contact Cadet Greenhill?” she asked.

“Is that wise?”

“She’s a friend of mine,” Annerose said. “Not just Reinhard’s.”

“You can write a letter. I can do my best to push it through. Personal communication with the first fleet is going to be spotty, though, since the ansibles are probably having all their bandwidth devoted to sending back the logs.”

Annerose nodded as Cazerne stood. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ll let you know when the base personnel list comes through. We can look at it together.”

“You don’t have to, sir.”

“I think that I owe you that much, at least.”

Annerose wanted to protest again, but just nodded, and he headed out. He returned a few hours later, while she was trying in vain to get real work done.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“No. I will later.”

“The base personnel list came in.” He pulled a granola bar out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Eat this, and then you can look at it.”

“Have you looked at it?” she asked. She took the bar.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Okay.” She unwrapped the food and ate it as quickly as possible. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Cazerne sat down across from her and pulled his tablet out. A long list of names was on the screen, and Cazerne searched it for every possible spelling of “Müsel” and “Reinhard” coming up with nothing. With every failed attempt, Annerose slumped further in her chair.

“I expected that,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Cazerne said again.

“It’s not your fault.” She took the tablet from him and scrolled through the list, reading it from top to bottom, a litany of about four hundred names. 

“Fredrica isn’t on here,” Annerose said after a minute.

“She was transferred to the Minnesota. They wouldn’t have counted her while they were getting everyone off that ship.”

“I guess.” Annerose slid the tablet back to him. “Thank you for sitting with me.”

“Do you want to go home?” he asked.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said. “I have work to do.”

He nodded. “Don’t…” he started to say, but then stopped. “You know where to find me if you need me.” And then stood and left.

Annerose didn’t pay any more attention to anything that was going on with the first fleet. She started writing a letter to Fredrica, then deleted the entire thing. She didn’t know what she could even say to her. Maybe when she returned to Heinessen they could meet up in person, but a letter now might be too raw.

She worked the whole day, then went home. Julian was in the kitchen, making dinner.

“I thought you would come back early, since you went in so early,” Julian said. “Was there any news?”

“No,” Annerose said. “You didn’t have to cook.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I wanted to.” He handed her a plate of pasta and they sat down to eat. 

“How was your summer camp?” Annerose asked, trying to keep her mind off of things. Julian described his day in detail, keeping his tone a moderated level of cheerfulness. She appreciated the distraction. 

“Do you want to see the bead lizard I made?” He showed it to her, and she expressed that she did in fact like its green and brown beaded tail.

After dinner, Annerose intended to work on her embroidery on the couch, but she stared at and hated her current project, a nature scene of a waterfall, and she poked the needle through the cloth several times before just letting the whole thing slide onto her lap. She tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling, not really thinking about anything. Before she knew it, she was asleep.

Someone was shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes, struggling to remember where she was, and the needle from her embroidery stabbed her in her leg. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking around in the darkness. The only light came from the tv, muted and flickering like it often was in her mother’s bedroom. Julian was sitting on the couch next to her, pulling her awake.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he said. “Look!”

On the screen, on the television, was a picture of Reinhard, looking filthy and holding a gun in front of him as he stood on the bridge of an imperial destroyer. Shockingly, he was dressed in the uniform of an imperial officer. 

If it weren’t for the fact that she had already been stabbed by her embroidery, Annerose would have thought she was dreaming.

“What’s going on?” she asked. 

Julian unmuted the television. “...Commandeered the imperial destroyer Falke during the battle outside Condor Base, in the Condor starzone near the Iserlohn corridor. We have had unprecedented transparency from the fleet, including footage of the storming of the bridge, which you’re seeing now.

“We will read to you a selection from the report submitted by the young Cadet von Müsel…”

“He’s alive!” Julian said, exuberant. “They said he’s on the Minnesota coming back to Heinessen.”

Annerose still couldn’t quite believe her eyes or ears, as the television newscaster read on, narrating the events unfolding in the grainy security footage. She didn’t know how the news had gotten this information, and why no one had told her that Reinhard was alive. She didn’t know what was going on.

She pulled out her phone and dialed her mother, who picked up after four rings. “Hi, Annerose,” she said, sounding tired. “How are you?”

“Mom, are you at home?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m with my prayer group, we--”

“Turn on the news, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on? What channel?”

“Ale News Network,” Annerose said. “Just do it.”

There was a moment of shuffling sounds over the line, and then the sound of the tv in her mother’s room turning on, an echo of the same news broadcast coming through over the phone.

“Reinhard?” her mom asked.

“He’s alive,” Annerose said, almost crying into the phone. “He’s fine.” There was a heavy sound from the other end of the line, then a creaking as her mother sat down on the bed. “Mom?”

“I knew he was alive,” she said. “I knew he was.”

“He is, mom,” Annerose said. “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.”

“I’ll call you back tomorrow,” Annerose said. “I need to find out more about what’s going on.”

“You do that, sweetheart. I’ll keep an eye on the news.”

“Goodnight, mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Caribelle said, then hung up.

Annerose immediately called Cazerne, then, to find out what exactly was happening and what Reinhard’s status was, and when she could contact him.

* * *

Life over the next few days was chaotic and stressful. Annerose was dying to see Reinhard, but he was still en route, and she wasn’t allowed to speak to him at all. In fact, she had been told to meet with the publicity staff at the military affairs headquarters, the people who dealt with all press-related inquiries, and been told explicitly that she was not allowed, under any circumstances, to give interviews or speak to the press at all.

She asked Cazerne if they were allowed to stop her from doing that, and he looked at her sideways and asked if she actually wanted to go be the public face of this. She emphatically did not, so she left handling it to the professionals. This was harder than she thought it would be, because people found her house and waited outside of it, which annoyed her. She had Julian walk home from his bus stop after his summer camp through the back streets, then cut through some other family’s backyard and hop her fence to avoid them. 

It infuriated her that she was not allowed to write to Reinhard, and she didn’t understand why. It infuriated her more that she wasn’t allowed to meet him at the airport when he came back down to the planet. She didn’t understand what the restrictions were in place for. Wasn’t it already clear that she was going to obey the edicts not to talk to the media? She resented the fact that she was being treated like some kind of criminal element. It felt that way, at least. She knew that it wasn’t just press who were watching her door-- she was also being surveilled by plainclothes military police. Cazerne had tried to tell her it was for her own protection, but she could tell that even he was annoyed, and was just trying to put an acceptable spin on the weird situation.

She was finally told that she would be allowed to see Reinhard and take him home when he returned to the military affairs headquarters. She paced back and forth in her office, a highly unusual activity for her, but she was full of a terrible, burning energy. Although her rational brain knew that Reinhard was fine and alive, she still felt like she couldn’t confirm it until she had seen him with her own eyes.

There was a knock on her office door. Annerose practically ran to open it, pulling it open and almost fumbling with the handle in her haste. 

There was Reinhard. 

He had a kind of apologetic smile on his face, and he stood stiffly as though he wasn’t sure how to move. He looked her over for an instant, and, never one to miss a detail, his eyes settled on her new pin. Annerose ignored the soldiers surrounding him, grabbed his arm to pull him inside the room, and then slammed the door shut in their faces.

Now that they were in private, she immediately threw her arms around him. Some of the tension that she could see in his shoulders immediately melted away as they hugged each other. 

“Annerose--”

“I thought you were dead,” she said, and then couldn’t help but cry, getting the shoulder of his uniform wet as she sobbed into it. “I thought you were dead and that I would never see you again.”

“I’m alive,” he said, rubbing his hand along her back. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

She couldn’t stop crying and clinging to him for a long moment, making a fool of herself like she hadn’t since she was young and angry at him for getting in trouble at school. “I’m sorry for being such a mess,” she said as she eventually pulled herself away from him and rubbed her eyes on a tissue she pulled from her pocket.

“I’m sorry to have worried you,” Reinhard said. “I wanted to talk to you immediately but they wouldn’t let me.”

“I know,” Annerose said, some of the frustration of the past few days coming through in her voice. “Trust me, I know.”

Reinhard laughed a little. “Are you okay now, though?”

Annerose finished wiping her eyes, steadied herself by leaning one hand on her desk. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She paused a second. “Mom is, too, by the way. You’ll have to go see her sometime this week.”

“Of course. You don’t have to think that I’m an undutiful son.”

“I know.” Annerose let out a half laugh. “You’re back with me for three seconds and I’m already scolding you. You must think I’m ridiculous.”

“No, of course I don’t.” He was smiling broadly down at her. “Well, I do for some things.”

“Like what?”

“You didn’t tell me that you got promoted.”

She laughed a little again. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Gods, Reinhard, so much has happened.”

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander von Müsel,” he said with a bit of a smirk.

“What’s that face for?”

Reinhard reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box. He turned around so he wasn’t quite facing her, and when he turned back around, he had affixed his own lieutenant commander pin to his uniform collar. Annerose stared at it, shocked.

“Well, aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander von Müsel,” she said. He laughed at her.

“I’m glad you got promoted. I would hate to jump ahead of you for something like this.”

“Are you actually promoted?” she asked.

He scowled a little bit. “I have to finish school, and then I’ll be commissioned in.” Reluctantly, he unfastened the pin from his collar. He put it back in the box, then handed it to her. “You should hold on to this for me, so that I don’t let it get to my head.”

“Very mature of you.”

“I assume I would be keeping it in your apartment anyway.”

“Oh, that’s another thing,” Annerose said, and she looked away from Reinhard a little.

“What? Are you going to make me stay with mom?”

“Oh, no, you can stay with me. I just, er, my living situation has changed a little bit.”

“In what way?”

“I moved into the neighborhood where Commodore Cazerne lives.”

“The houses over there are nice. I’m glad.”

“There’s also--” She didn’t really know how to put this.

“What?”

“You need to promise that you’re not going to get mad.”

Reinhard narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Promise.”

“You making me promise makes it almost guaranteed that I have something to be mad about.”

“Come on, Reinhard. Please.”

“You have a new boyfriend or something? It’s fine.” It didn’t exactly sound like he was fine with that.

“No, it’s not that.”

“I promise I won’t get mad. Just spit it out.”

“Okay-- there’s-- Commodore Cazerne asked a favor of me. There’s this-- Cazerne asked me to take care of a child.”

“What?” Reinhard seemed utterly confounded.

“His name is Julian Minci, he’s a war orphan, he’s ten. He’s living in my house.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted you to meet him and not just have you learn about this over a letter.”

“I can understand why, though I would have also preferred to know.” He didn’t seem angry, mostly in a small state of shock. “He’s at your house?”

“Yes. We should go. He’s-- well, he’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Is he the type of ten year old that I will find tolerable?”

“Oh, yes. He’s very smart.”

“Okay. I’ll take your word for it.” His voice was now carefully neutral. “Shall we go?”

“Yes, let’s.”

They were escorted out of the building so that Annerose could drive them home. “I’m going to park us down the street. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to do some crossing of my neighbor’s back lawns, and then hop my fence. I really don’t want to deal with the crowd of media people,” Annerose said as they drove back.

“I don’t care if people see me.”

“I get the feeling that the media attention won’t actually be good for you in the long term.”

They did end up stealthily ducking through a few back yards and hopping the fence to get to Annerose’s house.

“Julian, I’m home,” Annerose called as they came in the back door.

There was the sound of running feet, and Julian skidded around the corner into the living room, a big smile on his face. Annerose smiled back. Reinhard stood rather stiffly beside her. It was clear that there were wheels turning in Julian’s head as he looked at Reinhard, who was taller than him by quite a bit.

“Julian, this is my brother, Reinhard. Reinhard, this is Julian Minci.”

Julian hesitantly stepped forward, and Reinhard held out his hand to shake. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Julian said.

This had not been what Reinhard was expecting Julian to say, because he laughed loudly as he shook Julian’s hand, which made the tips of Julian’s ears turn pink. “Don’t believe everything you see in the news,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“It would be an honor even if you were just Lieutenant Commander von Müsel’s brother. She told me about you.”

Reinhard smiled. Julian had hit on a combination of words that Reinhard did like to hear-- showing deference to her rank, flattering Reinhard’s ego, and also showing that Annerose spoke highly of him even when he was not around. Reinhard relaxed a little, and some of the worry that the two wouldn’t get along left Annerose. Perhaps this had been the ideal time to break the news that she had taken Julian in to Reinhard, because he was already very busy thinking about his own self.

“Julian has been the biggest help in the world over the past week or so,” Annerose said.

“I’m sorry for making everyone believe I was dead,” Reinhard said. “It was unfair of me to give you a scare like that.”

“It happens,” Annerose said, though she didn’t think it did very much. “Should we order some takeout?”

“I made dinner,” Julian said. “It’s in the oven.”

“Oh, perfect,” Annerose said. “Thank you, Julian.”

“And that bottle of wine that Commodore Cazerne gave you is chilling.”

Reinhard raised an eyebrow at him. “And you’re expecting to have some of it?”

Julian blushed hotly. “No, sir.”

Reinhard tousled his hair and laughed, walking past him into the kitchen. Annerose watched him go. Perhaps everything was right with the world, at least here in her little house, at least for this one moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can hear the chorus now, people shouting, "Faster than light travel makes no sense! There's no such thing as simultaneity!" well shush. FTL makes science fiction fun.
> 
> This chapter is like stupid long. Hope you enjoyed haha.
> 
> Reinhard's promotion is kinda equivalent to Yang Wenli's post el facil promotion. 
> 
> Baby Julian Baby Julian Baby Julian
> 
> I think next chapter might?? be the last chapter in this part.
> 
> ok: Thanks to Lydia for the beta read. More FTL @ bit.ly/shadowofheaven , more questionably deserved promotions @ bit.ly/arcadispark. more me on twitter as @natsinator and on tumblr as @javert


	15. Childhood's End

_ February 795 U.C. _

Reinhard visited his mother the next day, borrowing Annerose’s car to drive to Wrightsville while Annerose carpooled to work with Cazerne. He wasn’t sure if he should knock on the door to his own family home for a second, and ended up just trying to open the door loudly. To his surprise, he found not just his mother waiting for him inside, but also a man he had never seen before. His mother stood from her position on the couch as soon as he came in.

“Reinhard!” she said, wrapping him in a hug for a long second. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He stiffly accepted the hug. “I’m glad to be back, mom,” he said. “Are you doing all right?”

“Much better, now,” she said. “I won’t lecture you about it. I’m sure Annerose has already given you an earful.”

“Of course,” Reinhard said. “Have you met the kid she has in her house?”

“Julian? Sweet boy,” she said.

“I’m the last one to know everything, it seems.”

“Not everything,” his mother said. “Come here, there’s someone I’d love for you to meet.” She smiled at him. Reinhard allowed himself to be pulled further into the living room, where the man had been standing, watching him speak with his mother.

“Reinhard, this is Bishop Martine. Bishop, this is my son, Reinhard.”

“Pleasure,” Reinhard said, extending his hand. He didn’t actually think it was a pleasure to meet the bishop. He was probably in his late forties or early fifties, but his face was unusually drawn, and his black curls were streaked with grey. Martine wore a neutral expression, polite but cool, and he shook Reinhard’s hand firmly. 

“I’m honored to meet our local hero,” the bishop said. His tone wasn’t quite derogatory, but he didn’t sound very honored, either.

“Please, have a seat,” Caribelle said, gesturing to the couch. Reinhard decided that he would rather sit in the armchair, rather than next to the bishop, so that was what he did, leaving him feeling very much like he was facing off against the man. His mother sat next to the bishop.

Reinhard crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on the side of the armchair, the very image of nonchalance. Still, despite his relaxed posture, he felt he had been backed into a corner here. He had no desire to lend his measure of fame to the Earth Church, and he had no idea what they could want from him aside from that. He had thought, prior to this moment, that he could trust his mother not to try to drag him into things, but it seemed clear that he could not.

“Is there a particular reason you’re here, Bishop?” Reinhard asked. “It seems like church officials often have very busy schedules.”

Martine laughed, a hollow kind of sound. Caribelle cut in before he could answer. “The bishop was a great comfort to me while you were missing, and he asked to meet you.”

“I see,” Reinhard said. “I suppose I should thank you for being there for my mother.”

“Your mother has been a great service to the church,” Martine said. “It is, of course, the nature of the church to help her members in any way possible.”

Reinhard glanced, almost involuntarily, to his side, at the large banner on the wall. “I see.”

“Just like the Earth is mother to us all, the church strives to reflect the image of our true mother, and be a mother to each of its members,” the bishop continued. “And mothers help their children.”

“I don’t disagree with that,” Reinhard said. “Though it must be difficult to be the mother to millions of children.”

“We do our best.”

“It’s true that just my two have given me no end of trouble,” Caribelle said with a smile.

“I’m not trouble,” Reinhard protested, hating feeling like his mother thought of him as young. 

“Of course not,” Martine said. “In fact, I’m sure you will be of great benefit to the Alliance, once you start your real career.”

Reinhard studied him. “But doesn’t your church operate out of the Empire, as well? Isn’t it a detriment to you for the Alliance to have competent officers?”

“Earth is the mother to the entire human race,” Martine said. “The divisions of Alliance and Empire are arbitrary.”

“Something may be both arbitrary and real at the same time,” Reinhard said.

“This is true.” The bishop looked at him for a moment. “Your mother tells me that you have an interest in economics?”

“I’m not sure why that would be a subject of conversation between the two of you,” Reinhard said. “But it’s true, I do.”

“The church is not unconcerned with the world of men,” Martine said with a wan smile. “Since most of our pilgrims from the Alliance traffic through Phezzan, it would be a mistake to ignore economic realities.”

Reinhard nodded. “And what are these realities?”

“The universe has been going on in the way that it is for generations, but I think all of us know that it’s not going to keep going like this forever.”

“What do you mean?” Reinhard asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You’d be blind not to see change on the wind, Mr. von Müsel,” Martine said. “And your mother assures me that you are not.”

“You’re saying that the war is going to end?”

“One can hope that.”

“And then what are you hoping for?”

“It would be a blessing for all of humanity to once again be united under a common banner.”

“I thought that you said that the divisions between nations were arbitrary?” He was being petulant on purpose, because he didn’t like this man. He got a bad impression from him, and he resented that his mother had tricked him into having this conversation.

“Division is arbitrary, but unity is very real.”

“And what way do you want humanity to be united?” Reinhard asked.

“We are already united by so much,” Martine said. “After all, everyone who is hungry must eat.”

“It seems strange to me that you’re making such odd statements,” Reinhard said. “I could interpret this conversation badly, if I was an uncharitable man.”

“Your mother tells me that you are charitable to your friends and hard to your enemies. I would like for us to be friends.”

“I’m afraid I have no interest in religion.”

“But you have an interest in the shared destiny of humanity?”

“Anyone who does not is a fool.”

“I agree with you,” Martine said. “At its core, that is what religion is.”

“I have no idea what you want from me,” Reinhard said.

“Your mother is a capable, intelligent woman,” Martine said, which made Caribelle smile. “It is clear that her children are the same. If you were to go into politics after getting your citizenship, you would be an immediate success, I think.”

“I have no interest in trying to get elected. The idea of making promises in order to trick people into liking me is revolting.” This was perhaps the first genuine thing he had said in the conversation.

Martine smiled a little. “Of course, Mr. von Müsel. I understand that completely.”

“Then what is it that you want?”

“Want? I’m merely making an introduction to you. I think, though, that you are a rising star, and in the future it might be expedient for us to work together.”

“On what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Martine said, voice overly nonchalant. “But I don’t think that we’re at cross purposes, you and I. If we both have our eyes on a future in which humanity is united under one banner, and we understand that the reality of that will be more challenging than the dream.”

“The problem with dreams, Bishop Martine,” Reinhard said, “is that nothing in them takes any time or effort whatsoever. And they are, by necessity, things that one wakes up from when the night is over.”

“Indeed.” Martine stood, and Reinhard and his mother both followed him up. “Your mother was right that I would like you, Mr. von Müsel. This has been a very interesting talk.” He reached inside his pocket and handed Reinhard a business card, which Reinhard glanced at, then slipped into his own pocket. “Should you ever need anything, feel free to call me.”

“I take it that would not be a favor, but a loan,” Reinhard said.

“Take it as you may,” Martine said. “But I am a capable man, and I can get many things done. I  _ would  _ like for us to be friends, Mr. von Müsel.”

“It’s too bad my sister isn’t here. She would tell you that I’ve always been particularly bad at making friends.”

“I would like to meet the young Ms. von Müsel as well, someday, but perhaps some other time,” the bishop said. He shook hands with Reinhard again, staring into his eyes. Reinhard was perfectly capable of staring back, though, and he was not intimidated in the least. “I’m sure I will see you again. Good afternoon.” He nodded politely, and Caribelle escorted him to the door.

When he was gone, Reinhard paced back and forth in the living room for a second, trying to stifle his anger at his mother. He didn’t want to yell at her, but he would if he couldn’t get himself under control.

“Why did you make me talk to him?” Reinhard demanded after a second. His tone was harsh, but his volume was reasonable, at least. His fists were clenched at his sides.

“Reinhard, please don’t think that I’m trying to use you for my church,” Caribelle said, passing a hand over her eyes. “I think it’s valuable for you to understand some of the forces in play, here.”

“Admiral Greenhill specifically warned me not to allow my image to be used by politicians. And you trap me here with the leader of your church.”

“You may notice that we met in my living room, rather than in his office,” Caribelle pointed out gently. “That was for your sake.”

“And because you knew I never would have gone somewhere else.”

Caribelle sighed and sat back down on the couch, clearly exhausted. Reinhard continued to pace for a second. 

“What did he want from me?” Reinhard asked.

“He thinks that you’re going to be a powerful person here soon enough,” Caribelle said. “The church likes to hedge its bets, make friends with lots of people.”

“And then what do those people do for them?”

“That’s above my head.”

“And you think that I’m about to become their servant?”

“Reinhard, I think that you could make use of them, if you’re smart about it. The church itself is a tool. Everyone who’s high enough knows that. You could--”

“I have no desire to tie myself to anyone else,” Reinhard said dismissively. “I’m not the kind of person that trades favors in the dark.”

“I know,” she said. “But you should know that the opportunity is available to you. That’s all I wanted to make the introduction for.”

“What a cold-hearted reason.”

“I’m sorry that you’re angry at me.”

“I thought you wanted to see me again, not involve me in some sort of scheme.”

“I did want to see you. And I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah.” He was, unfortunately, still angry. “Have you looked at yourself, recently?” he demanded. “This is crazy.” He was staring at the banner. 

“You may not believe it,” she said. “But that doesn’t make it wrong for me to believe it.”

“Fine. Let yourself be manipulated by them,” he said. “You’re an adult. I don’t care.”

“Reinhard…”

“What? You think they’re not manipulating you?”

“I participate in the church out of my own free will. And I know enough to see how it works.”

“Sure.” Reinhard looked at her. She seemed calm but tired, pale face drawn. There was an echo of Annerose in the way she looked, but there was something else there, too, something more, something different, that Reinhard had never paid attention to before. Perhaps he believed her, a little, that she had been trying to have him speak with the bishop for his sake. Still, he didn’t like being pushed around, not by anyone, not even his mother. “You might let yourself be used, but I’m not going to be.”

“We’re all tools for some higher purpose,” she said. “And I don’t think yours is at cross purposes with the church.”

Reinhard looked at her. “You’re straining the bonds of affection between us.”

She chuckled a little bit and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“You might not, but I think your bishop has his eyes on me.”

“He would have whether or not I let him in here. Perhaps-- well, no, never mind.” She shook her head.

“What?”

“I can tell you who you should really avoid. Bishop Martine isn’t a bad man, all things considered.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He was annoyed again. “I should go before one of us says something that we’ll both regret.”

“Of course,” she said. “I do love you, Reinhard.”

“I know.” He headed for the door. 

* * *

_ September 795 U.C. _

Before the summer, Reinhard had been looking forward to his last year at school. Now, though, the whole place felt stifling, worse even than high school had. People looked at him with either awe or open jealousy. Under better circumstances, he might have liked the former, but now he emphatically preferred people who felt the latter. These people were supposed to be his peers-- theoretically his equals-- and it grated to imagine that they thought themselves incapable of doing what he had done. Those who were jealous at least continued to see themselves in competition with Reinhard.

Even his professors seemed to have developed odd ways of treating him. Maybe they were expecting that Reinhard would let the whole thing go to his head and that he would expect to not do schoolwork. That wasn’t the case, though. Reinhard would have done his work well anyway, as a matter of personal pride (and desire to retain his number one spot), but he had also taken Admiral Greenhill’s warnings to heart and had no desire to misstep in his last year at the academy and lose his promised posting.

So the year began lonelier and stranger than any year had before it. The only people who still treated him normally were Fredrica, of course, and Jessica (who wasn’t even a student, but whom he saw socially fairly often). 

He was looking forward to at least one thing, the practical course, where he would get to go into space again. For many of the students, it would be their first time in space, but Reinhard was intimately familiar with it, at this point.

Reinhard and Fredrica had been assigned to the same practical course, and, indeed, the same ship during the practical course-- a somewhat battered old destroyer that had been retired from active service and turned into a training vessel called the Brazil. 

Before they left to begin the course, Reinhard had asked Fredrica what she thought of them being placed together, and she had given him a look. They were sitting across from each other in the dining hall, eating a late lunch after class.

“I asked for it,” she said.

“Really? I thought you didn’t want any favors.”

“I didn’t want any in my father’s name. I think I’ve earned this favor under my own merit.”

Reinhard laughed a little. “I see. And why did you want us to be put together?”

“Why do you think?”

“I have no idea.”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Obviously. But it would be more fun for you if you were commanding your own ship, wouldn’t it?”

“You’ve seen the way people treat me.”

“You would be in command, though. That's--”

“I’m just hoping that there won’t be any trouble,” Fredrica said. “And if there is trouble, I’d rather be with you.”

“You think that there will be?”

“Usually you’re the paranoid one. Maybe not. I don’t know.”

“I’m sure you could handle any problems that arise on your own.”

“Jealousy makes people do unexpected things,” Fredrica said. “And people’s opinion of me is that I’ve been just hanging on to your achievements.”

“They’re idiots, then. You should have proved them wrong by staying away from me.”

She frowned down at her plate. “Maybe.”

Reinhard backpedaled a little bit. “Not that I’m not happy that we’ll be together, of course. I’ll be glad to have you.”

She laughed a little. “I know.”

“Do you think we’ll get real postings together?” Reinhard asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m sure that we could ask for it and probably get it.”

Reinhard nodded. Although he wasn’t sure he wanted that, he wasn’t sure that he didn’t want that, either. It seemed somewhat unlikely that they would have the same post, unless they were both staff officers on some flagship, because they were going to have the same rank. It was far more likely that they would both end up as executive officers on different ships. But that was still some time away.

Because of the intense nature of the practical course, the whole senior class took it in shifts, the first three weeks devoted entirely to a crash course training in every aspect of life aboard a spaceship. The last week was devoted to playing a war game, with the students in control of a tiny group of about twenty ships, while school staff members operated a fleet of drones against them, to simulate a battle. 

The first few weeks passed in an exhausting blur. The instructors did not waste a single second of time drilling the students. Even Reinhard and Fredrica, who had already been suit trained and were intimately familiar with many ship operations, found themselves working hard. It was so exhausting that the other students didn’t have energy to complain, let alone cause trouble. Everyone passed out as soon as they returned to their bunks on board their ship. Fredrica got her own room (being the only woman on board, she was put into the XO’s suite), but all the other students stayed in the bunks for the enlisted men, down in the bottom of the ship.

The intensity of it reminded Reinhard a little of what Hell Week had been like as a freshman, but he had coped with that easily, and he coped with this better. It was for the best that everyone was so exhausted, because if they hadn’t been, it would have been unpleasant to be in such close quarters. Fredrica was right that there was an undercurrent of jealousy in every interaction that he had with the other students. Reinhard double checked the seals on his spacesuit and the oxygen levels in his tanks every time they suited up, out of an abundance of caution. He didn’t think that people like his freshman year roommate Gabriel, who was also on the ship, would try to actively hurt him, but young men in close proximity with emotions running high could be almost guaranteed to behave erratically. 

The last week of the course, the war games, began well. The students were split into four watch groups, with shift changes every six hours. The highest-ranked students were split across different groups to give them each a chance to take an important position. This meant that Reinhard and Fredrica were given schedules opposite each other, each acting as the ship’s captain during their six hour command shift. 

After working as crew for six hours, each watch group would spend the next shift working in small groups or individually to develop tactical plans for the war games, based on information that they were given by the proctors. The proctors would then grade their plans, select a few of the best options, and present them to the next shift to execute. Fredrica and Reinhard each took command following the other’s tactical session. It pleased Reinhard when Fredrica reported that his plan was being used, which happened several times. (“Of course I could tell it was yours; it was the only one that looked like it had a reasonable chance of working.”) He also ended up putting several of Fredrica’s plans into action during his work shift, which pleased him as well.

The other two six-hour shifts were downtime. Although theoretically, those who were off duty were supposed to be in either the meeting rooms, the dining hall, the sleeping quarters, or the rec rooms, in reality the barriers were permeable. Reinhard had already spent some time during the previous week becoming familiar with the nooks and crannies of the ship, and he wandered now, careful not to get caught. He liked the feeling of not being observed.

It was during one of these wanderings, on the penultimate day of their practical course, that Reinhard noticed that something was wrong. He had slipped out of the rec room and made his way down the hallway towards the sleeping quarters, but had then turned down one of the cross-hallways of the ship, the one that would take him towards the engine room, his intention being there to use the computers there to watch what was happening on the bridge, whatever Fredrica was up to. He had thought that no one had seen him go, but perhaps people had been watching where he went, because after some quiet walking, he heard footsteps behind him. They weren’t being obvious, which made it even less likely that this was someone going about their routine business.

Reinhard tried to not make it apparent that he knew he was being followed, but he turned away from where he had been intending to go and instead made a wide loop, moving towards the front of the ship. This had apparently been the wrong thing to do, because his pursuers sped up and became slightly more obvious. Reinhard had no desire to get caught, so he consulted his mental map of the ship, turned the next corner, walked as quickly as he could without running down the hall, then found a closet with a symbol of a ladder underneath its door label, one of the emergency access passageways. He got in the closet and jumped upwards, grabbing the ladder that began slightly out of reach, then hauled himself upwards in the narrow closet, kicking against the side of the wall when he needed to grab the next rung. At the top of the ladder, he shoved the hatch open hard with his shoulder, ending up in a closet one floor above. He shut the hatch and exited the closet, finding himself in an empty hallway on the ship’s fourth platform.

Still not wanting to be caught by whoever was chasing him, and now definitely out of bounds, Reinhard jogged back down the ship, headed now towards the shuttle bay near the rear. He made it there without incident, but then he heard something that surprised and alarmed him, the ship’s PA system crackled to life, Fredrica’s voice saying, “This is acting captain Greenhill-- the ship is entering a restricted movement alert level one. Remain where you are until the alert has been lifted. I repeat, we are under a restricted movement alert level one. Remain where you are.”

Reinhard mentally apologized to Fredrica as he disobeyed the order and finished his jog towards the shuttle bay. He wouldn’t be able to launch a shuttle (only the academy staff overseeing the exercize had the ability to allow shuttles to launch), but he could certainly climb inside one and flip on the radio to hear the chatter. Perhaps this was part of the simulation.

Reinhard climbed into one of the open shuttles and sat in the pilot’s seat, leaving the door open. He flipped on the interior lights and fiddled with the radio, tuning to the standard frequency that was being used during the simulation. He heard the other ships talking to each other, though not the familiar voice of Fredrica’s watch’s communications officer.

From what he could hear over the radio, the battle situation was proceeding normally, which was good.

Reinhard heard the sound of someone running outside the shuttle bay. So, there was someone else disobeying the restricted movement order. The shuttle bay door opened.

Reinhard thought about turning off the radio and hiding for a second, but then immediately dismissed that thought as cowardly. Instead, he exited the shuttle, leaning nonchalantly against the side of it, looking down the boarding stairs at the intruder.

He recognized the man who had come in, a surly young man with shaved black hair whose name was Maynard Barton, and who had been friends with Reinhard’s roommate Gabriel during their freshman year. Reinhard had always disregarded him as somewhat incompetent, at the very least for his poor choice of friends. He was aware, however, that Barton was in Fredrica’s watchgroup, so it was quite unusual that he was running around in the shuttle room, rather than manning one of the stations.

“What are you doing out here, Barton?” Reinhard called down to him.

Barton was surprised, and looked up at him. “I could ask the same thing of you.”

“I thought I’d have a nice evening trying to pick up some music from Radio Heinessen,” Reinhard said. “It’s as good of an excuse as any.”

“Doesn’t sound like music.”

“And this doesn’t look like your watch assignment.”

“I was actually looking for you.”

“On whose account?”

“I don’t think that matters.”

“It doesn’t?” Reinhard asked.

“No, I don’t think it does.”

“Well, you’ve found me.” Reinhard said. He spread his arms a little, as if inviting the boy below him to come up and grab him. “What do you intend to do with me?”

“I intend to keep you here.”

“It certainly is a good thing I was intending to obey the restricted movement order anyway, isn’t it?” Reinhard said. “But it makes me curious: why would you need to stop me from going anywhere?” He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer, but he wanted to get it out of Barton anyway before he rid himself of the problem. Reinhard had already been looking around the shuttle bay, eyes scanning for anything that could be used as a weapon in a fight, though he thought that he could take the other boy bare-handed if he had to.

“I was just told to keep you away from the bridge.”

“And what’s happening on the bridge?”

“Nothing of your concern.”

“I feel like, since you’ve gone to such special efforts to make it my concern, I have a right to know.”

“And what would you do with that information?”

“That entirely depends on what the information is, isn’t it?” Reinhard felt the other boy was stalling for time. “I mean, really, you telling me to stay away from the bridge makes me want to go there even more.”

Barton stiffened. “I won’t let you.”

“You really want to try to stop me?” Reinhard asked.

“You think you’re special,” Barton said. “You’re not.”

“Oh? You think you could do what Greenhill and I did? I’d like to see you try.”

Barton laughed. “That’s exactly what we’re doing, genius.”

“Mutiny, then,” Reinhard said. “Not particularly honorable of you.”

“It’s not mutiny, it’s--” But Barton didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Reinhard leapt off the shuttle boarding stairs in one acrobatic movement and landed down in front of Barton, already swinging a punch at the other boy’s face. He hit, and Barton’s head snapped sideways as he stumbled backwards.

Reinhard advanced, backing Barton towards the wall, not allowing him a chance to fully recover before he punched him again, this time in the stomach. Barton doubled over, but then he kept his head down and charged at Reinhard, who stepped out of the way and slammed his hands down on Barton’s spine as he ran forward. Barton toppled to the ground, putting out his hands to break his fall. Reinhard aimed a kick at his elbow, and when it connected, Barton’s left arm twisted in a completely unnatural way and he yelled out in pain.

Reinhard was in the process of grabbing the emergency fire hose from the wall when the PA system came to life once again. “Attention: this ship is now under restricted movement level three. Clear all firebreaks.” Fredrica’s voice sounded slightly tense, now, but since she still had control of the ship enough to activate the order to seal all of the emergency doors, Reinhard wasn’t that worried about her physical safety.

Reinhard grabbed the fire hose, ignoring the sound of the emergency doors slamming shut throughout the ship, an odd, echoing metal-on-metal sound. He turned to Barton, who was laying on the ground. “Are you done?”

Barton scrambled to his feet, clutching his arm to his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked.

“I’m not the one attempting to take over the ship,” Reinhard said. “I’ll ask again: are you done?”

“Yeah. Fuck. I’m done.” Barton scowled at him.

“Get in the shuttle,” Reinhard said.

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to tie you to the seat.” When Barton didn’t move, Reinhard stared him down for a long second, and then finally the other boy winced and broke and walked up the clattering metal stairs to get into the shuttle.

Reinhard tied the sullen boy to the chair. “I don’t advise you attempt to leave the shuttle,” Reinhard said.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll find yourself in a vacuum,” Reinhard said. “You’ll be perfectly safe in there, but I don’t want you to come out and bother me.”

Biting remarks clearly were dancing on the tip of Barton’s tongue, but he held them in, which was for the best. Reinhard didn’t have the patience for him. He left the shuttle and shut it, making sure that it was fully sealed. He didn’t want to accidentally kill Barton, after all. That would be far more trouble than it was worth. Then Reinhard retrieved a space suit from the supply closet and suited up as quickly as possible. He made sure to pick one with a functioning suit radio. 

Once that was done, Reinhard stepped into the shuttle bay control room airlock, then into the control room, and began the procedure to evacuate the air from the large room, so that the shuttles could launch.

There was a radio set in there, too, and he flipped it on, listening for the chatter. There was no talk over the radio, but there wasn’t any of the static hiss characteristic of EM jamming, either. Reinhard listened for a while as the shuttle room cleared out. When he hadn’t heard anything after a long time, he decided that it was time to find out what was going on himself. He could at least ask. He flipped the communications mode to the ship’s internal communication system and hailed the bridge.

“Acting Captain Greenhill,” Reinhard said, trying to keep his voice somewhere between professional and mildly amused. He didn’t think that Fredrica was actually in danger, so he was less worried than he could be. “This is off-duty Cadet von Müsel. I’ve become aware that you may be experiencing some difficulties up on the bridge. Do you require any assistance?”

There was a long moment of silence, then Fredrica’s voice came over the radio. “The situation is under control, Cadet,” she said, though her voice sounded strained. “And I’m not sure what assistance you could provide.”

“I could make my way to the bridge.”

“With all the doors shut?”

“I’m suited up and near an airlock.”

“Reminder, Cadet, that we are under a restricted movement level three. Remain where you are.” But through the strain in Fredrica’s voice, she sounded both grateful and amused, which was enough for Reinhard.

“Acknowledged. Let me know if you need anything, or if the situation changes. Oh, and, by the way, when the restricted movement ends-- Cadet Barton, who is with me, will require treatment in the infirmary. This is not a medical emergency.”

“Thank you for the notice,” she said, though she was mildly grumpy, now.

Reinhard stopped talking and let the radio return to silence. He was tempted to go out anyway, find out what the actual situation was, try to help, but Fredrica did seem to have everything under control, and he didn’t want to cause any more trouble for her.

It was a tedious wait inside the control room. When the radio silence broke, Reinhard learned that their ship was about to be boarded by the academy staff who had been overseeing the exercise from the other ships. The “mutiny” was over quite quickly, without Fredrica ever losing control of the ship. The whole thing was beyond stupid, though if he admitted it to himself, Reinhard felt more annoyed at not getting to do anything to help than he had been about the situation happening in the first place.

Before the overseeing staff made their way through the whole ship, Reinhard somewhat reluctantly re-flooded the shuttle bay with air so that someone would be able to take Barton to the infirmary. He looked through the control room window at Barton sitting in the shuttle sullenly. There wasn’t any satisfaction in looking at him. 

Announcements were made over the ship’s PA system, first by Fredrica, then by one of the staff members who had apparently made it to the bridge, explaining that the ship was going to be searched room by room and that all students would remain confined to quarters until they arrived back on Heinessen.

When a pair of staff members finally came to find Reinhard and Barton in the shuttle bay, one of them quickly escorted Reinhard away while they untied the other boy. To his surprise, they did not return to the bunks where he had been staying, and was instead brought up to the second platform, where he was let into the quarters where the security officer usually lived. Conveniently, they were right next door to Fredrica’s quarters. Reinhard raised an eyebrow at this.

“Cadet Greenhill rightfully pointed out that it would be a security risk to have you return to the same quarters as the other cadets,” the staff member said. “Please remain here.”

“A security risk to whom?” Reinhard asked. “I have no intention of making trouble.”

“Please remain here, regardless.”

Reinhard did, laying on the bed after divesting himself of the spacesuit that he had still been wearing. He was very bored, and he was annoyed at the attempted mutineers for ruining the last few days of the practical course, which he had been enjoying more than he had his regular classes. 

After some time, there was a knock on the door. Reinhard sat up. “Come in.”

It was Fredrica, who looked tired but generally happy. She sat down at his desk chair. 

“I thought we were all being confined to quarters,” Reinhard said. “You have permission to walk around?”

“They don’t have enough guards to post one outside our doors,” Fredrica said.

“Poor planning.”

“I don’t think anyone expected to need to treat the entire student population of the ship like prisoners.”

“It is an extremely stupid thing. I’m sorry that you turned out to be right.”

“I’m very prescient,” Fredrica said. “It is what it is.”

“I see you dealt with the mutiny in short order.”

“It was a bit of trouble, but it didn’t actually get very far.”

“What happened?”

“They cut the radio and ansible transmit first, but they didn’t cut the receive, so at first I didn’t realize anything was wrong. Then they tried to take the bridge.”

“How many?”

“Five, at first, and we dealt with that. That was when I went to restricted movement one.”

“What made you go to three?”

“Finding out the radio was cut, and then I saw on the security cameras that about fifteen of them were still disobeying the restricted movement order, so I shut the doors. I thought it was going to be a bigger problem than it was.”

“Did anyone else get onto the bridge?”

“No,” she said, laughing a little. “Since they didn’t have control of engineering where they could force the doors open again, closing the doors was very effective. And then I just used the light signal to send an emergency message to the other ships. It was very stupid.”

“I’m glad you were able to take care of it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t get hurt, either.”

“Of course I didn’t.”

“What were you up to?”

“I was taking a walk,” Reinhard said. He leaned on the wall, crossing his legs. “People were apparently under the impression that I would be an obstacle to their mutiny.”

“And were you?”

“You said you were handling it, so I only had to deal with my personal problem.”

“Thank you for believing me. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I might still,” Reinhard said. “I think I broke Barton’s arm.”

Fredrica winced. “It was his fault.”

“I technically swung first.”

“Extenuating circumstances.”

“And I was already out of bounds.”

“If they punish you for this, I’ll yell at somebody on your behalf.”

Reinhard smiled. “Thanks.”

She sort of sighed and looked away. “This whole thing feels so pointless.”

“Were you enjoying the practical course?”

“Yeah, I was, honestly. I’m angry that people had to go and ruin it over nothing.”

“You should think of this as being good for you,” Reinhard pointed out. “This proves that you are capable by yourself.”

This made Fredrica scowl. “For one thing, I didn’t feel like I needed to prove that to anyone.”

“But people clearly needed it proved to them. Maybe it’s better that this happened, rather than something else, later.”

“I guess.” She was still frowning. “But this doesn’t even prove anything. They were just being stupid, and they accomplished nothing. Ugh.”

“Maybe you should just accept that you come off looking good in this situation, and make the best of it that way.”

“Fine.”

“Are you really that upset about it?”

“It feels dirty to benefit from other people’s stupidity, and it feels like a waste.”

Reinhard shrugged.

“You don’t think so?” Fredrica asked.

“There’s always going to be people like that,” Reinhard said. “You don’t need to feel guilty about them. It’s good to add to your own reputation. It will help you with your goals in the future.”

“What goals?” Fredrica asked.

Reinhard gave her a hard look. “You told me you wanted to follow in your father’s footsteps.”

“That’s not a goal.”

“What is then? You don’t think that you could be an admiral someday?”

“There are no women who become admirals,” she said. “The best I could hope is to leave the fleet and become a politician.”

Reinhard scowled. “Don’t do that. You could be the first. Or Annerose could be the first, and you could be the second.”

“What makes you think that I could?”

“I wouldn’t be your friend if you didn’t have talent.”

“Talent isn’t everything.”

“It should be.” He paused. “It will be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t have goals.”

“What are they, then?”

“I want to destroy the Goldenbaum dynasty,” Reinhard said. “That means that I first have to gain power here. I’m going to climb as fast and as high as possible. And when I get to the top, I will make sure that talent is the only thing that matters. Not name or anything else.”

“Why?”

“Because if you aren’t the one making decisions, then you’re subject to the decisions of others. And I think you just had a very good example of what other people can be like. The whole system is full of rotten people. People who don’t deserve respect.”

“You’re saying it’s not your personal pride that makes you want to climb?” she asked, half laughing at him.

“It’s rude of you to make fun of me.” He was used to Fredrica pushing his buttons, but she did know exactly which of his buttons to push.

“I’m not!” But she was smiling. “I think it’s fine. It’s true that-- no, I shouldn’t say that because it’ll go to your head.”

“Say it,” he insisted.

“You’d do a better job as a leader than most other people, so it’s to everyone’s benefit if you do climb.”

“Obviously.”

“Oh, I see it’s already gone to your head, even if I didn’t say anything.”

“You are lucky that I put up with you.”

“I don’t know what you’d do without me.”

Reinhard shook his head. “I guess we’re going to find out, soon enough.”

“I hate the idea of going someplace separate.”

“You want to stay with me?”

“We trust each other. I think that’s more than you could say for most other people.”

Reinhard nodded. “Am I wrong on that count?”

“It’s a matter of opinion. But I think you will have a harder time accomplishing what you want if you don’t have allies.”

“So you support my goals?”

She thought about it for a long second. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good.” He had assumed that she did, but it was nice to have confirmation. “We’ll work together, then.”

“That’s no different than what we have been doing.”

“You don’t want to make it official?”

“What, you want me to swear loyalty to you?” Fredrica asked.

Reinhard offered her his hand. “Will you?”

“I will not.”

He was surprised, and his hand wavered in the air. “Why not?”

“Because we’re friends, not…” She waved her hand vaguely. “Whatever that is. You don’t need me to say that I swear my loyalty to you. You should already…” Fredrica sighed a little when she saw the confusion written on Reinhard’s face. She grabbed his hand anyway. “Don’t be stupid,” she said.

He didn’t know how to feel about that. Perhaps he should have been unhappy, perhaps he should stop trusting her, perhaps he should tell her to leave his room. “Are you saying this because you don’t want to make promises that you can’t keep?”

“I’m saying it because it’s not a thing that needs to be promised. You don’t have to atomize people into what they can do for you.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“No?” She squeezed his hand, then let go. Reinhard let it drop to his lap. He frowned at her for a second, but she was smiling. “We’re friends. There’s no way to say what friendship will demand in the future, so there’s no sense in putting it into words now.”

Reinhard bit his finger for a second. “‘It’s an impoverished love that makes such demands,’” he said finally.

“What?”

“Something I said to Annerose, a long time ago. You’re right.”

She nodded. “I’m always right.”

“Now you’re the one who’s letting things go to your head.” He smiled, then, when she laughed at him.

* * *

_ December 795 U.C. _

“You shouldn’t have flown all the way down here for this,” Reinhard said to Annerose as they sat across from each other in a restaurant near the academy. The place was filled to the brim with kitschy neon lights that buzzed and hummed on the walls. Reinhard had never been here before, but Annerose said she liked it, so he had agreed. “I’m sure Julian misses you.”

“He can handle staying with mom for a few days,” Annerose said. “I wanted to see you graduate. Is that illegal?”

“No, of course not,” Reinhard said. “I’m glad you’re here. It just seems unnecessary.”

“I’ll decide what is necessary for myself, thank you,” Annerose said. “Besides, I wasn’t sure if I would get another chance to see you before you went off on your assignment. Who knows when we’ll be in the same place at the same time again.”

“I’m sure we will find some way to meet up.”

“Maybe,” Annerose said. She looked at him contemplatively. “I can’t believe you’re done with school.”

“I can.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not wanting you to be completely grown up.”

“I’m afraid that I can’t stop the passage of time,” Reinhard said. “Not even for you.”

She laughed. “Would you stay a baby for me, if you could and I asked you to?”

“I don’t think you really want that. You’re just consumed by nostalgia.”

“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “It’s good that you’re done with school.”

“You aren’t happy, though.”

“How could I want you to grow up and go somewhere where I can’t protect you?”

“You know I can protect myself. And I could say the same thing to you.”

“About that,” Annerose said.

“What about it?”

“My transfer is going through.”

Reinhard tried to stop the frown that crossed his face, but he didn’t quite succeed. “To the Rosen Ritter?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m being assigned as a staff officer to the regiment.”

“With Schenkopp as the regimental commander?”

“Yes, it’s official.”

“Isn’t there a conflict of interest there?”

“No,” Annerose said, flushing hotly and completely failing to look sincere. “There’s nothing between us anymore.”

Reinhard frowned. “Do what you want.”

Their conversation was interrupted as the waitress came over to take their order. When she left, Reinhard said, “There’s something that I’ve been thinking about a lot.”

“What?”

His hand found his locket underneath his shirt, twisted the end of it around a little. “Maybe I shouldn’t even mention it to you.”

“You already have, so I don’t know what the delay is.”

“When I was on Condor Base, I overheard the commodore talking to someone.”

“Oh?”

“He was on an ansible call with someone on Odin, a teacher, probably at their military academy.”

“Is this military information that you should have told someone else earlier?” Annerose asked.

“No. Will you just listen?”

“You’re the one drawing this out.”

“He was talking to someone named Leigh something-- I didn’t get a first name. While they were talking-- not about anything useful, just gossiping about members of the imperial admiralty-- someone came into the room on the other side of the call.”

Annerose narrowed her eyes. “And?”

“Leigh introduced him as one of his students, Kircheis.”

“Reinhard…” Annerose said, and for the first time that they had ever discussed the matter of Kircheis, there was pity in her voice rather than blatant discomfort. “It’s not likely that it was him.”

“I heard his voice.”

“Over an ansible-- the sound isn’t very clear.”

“Can you just trust me? I know him.”

“After almost ten years?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Because Leigh said that he was going to send Kircheis to one of two commanders, either Reuenthal, who was on Condor Base, or Mittermeyer, who I don’t know anything about. So all I’m saying is--”

“You want me to keep an eye out?”

Reinhard’s fingers clenched on his locket. “I don’t know. I’m just giving you all the information I have.” He paused. “I’d want you to be careful if you meet Commodore Reuenthal, anyway. He seems dangerous.”

“My goal is to be careful around all imperial soldiers,” Annerose said. “But I will keep that in mind.”

Reinhard nodded. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what you’re thanking me for.”

“You’re less upset with me than you have been.”

“Maybe I’ve grown up, too.”

“You’ve always been two steps ahead of me, in that respect.”

“You’ve put me on a pedestal that feels very easy to fall off of,” Annerose said. “It worries me that you think I’m something to live up to, because I’ve spent my whole life looking forward to the day that you run past me.” When she saw Reinhard frown, she added, “You will.”

The waitress returned with their food, again interrupting the conversation. They ate in silence for a few minutes, each occasionally looking across at the other, trying to discern what their sibling was thinking. It was harder, now that they had spent so much of the last few years apart, but there would always be a connection between them, Reinhard thought, one that was stronger than almost anything else in the world.

“Are you worried about the future?” Reinhard asked, after a while. “Do you think that you’re not going to succeed in it?”

“My goal has always been to help you succeed,” Annerose said. “And I think you’re well on your way to that. I can’t help but be nervous for your safety, but I’m not worried about the future, no.”

“You know something funny?” Reinhard asked, his tone not really amused, and more melancholy.

“What?” Annerose asked.

“A while ago, I wanted Fredrica to swear that we would help each other, and I was unhappy when she refused. Now, when you’re telling me that all you do, you do for me with no preconditions, that also doesn’t seem right.”

Annerose laughed. “Reinhard…”

“Don’t laugh at me,” he huffed.

“Fredrica and I are both very different people, and I don’t know if there’s anybody in this universe who could say something to completely satisfy you.” She glanced at Reinhard’s hand, still fiddling with his locket. “Well, maybe.” She sighed a little, and took a sip of her milkshake.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know.” She looked over at him. He met her eyes, feeling very odd. “You know, Reinhard, I love you regardless of what you do or accomplish. You don’t need to earn it.”

“I know,” he said, scowling. He thought it was an odd thing for her to say, and he couldn’t help but reject it. He would earn it, regardless.

“I hope you do know it.”

“Are you afraid that I’ll stop loving you if you don’t do things for me?” Reinhard asked suddenly, leaning forward over the table. “I won’t, I promise I won’t.”

“Of course not!” Annerose was startled by his intensity and leaned back a little. “You might be annoyed at me, but that’s not the same.”

“Then why do you say that your goal is only to help me succeed?” Reinhard asked.

“Because I want you to be happy,” she said. “And that’s the way I can help you to be.”

“But what about you?”

“You’re concerned with my personal wants all of a sudden?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You were just scowling when I mentioned Walter a minute ago.”

Reinhard sat up straight again. “I can’t win.”

“It’s not a battle.” She smiled. “Besides, I think you’d like him better now than you did years ago.”

“Maybe.” He was noncommittal.

“I think you have to trust me when I say that I know what I want, and I know what will make me happy. I try to trust you in the same way.”

“I can’t help feeling like I want to protect you,” Reinhard said.

“I can understand. It’s not as though I don’t feel the same. But protecting me from what I want or don’t want isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Is there something that needs to be solved?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She laughed a little. “You’re being unusually thoughtful today.”

“The nostalgia has me in its grip as well, I think.”

“You are something of the nostalgic type,” she said, glancing at his locket, which had migrated outside his shirt with the force of his fiddling.

He frowned again. “Do you permit me my weaknesses?”

“In terms of weaknesses, that one is very small,” Annerose said. “It’s unlikely to get you hurt.”

“Perhaps.”

Annerose sighed again as she looked at him, wiping her hands delicately on her napkin. “I should give this back to you,” she said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out the box that contained the pin that Admiral Greenhill had given him. “Since it will be official very soon.”

“Thanks for holding it for me,” he said. “Shall we go?”

“Sure.” She paid for their food, and then the two of them headed out, into the bright afternoon sunlight. 

They stood there in front of the restaurant for a moment, not quite a matching pair any longer. “Every time I see you I’m surprised at how tall you are,” she said. “I can forget while you’re sitting down, but when you stand up, it’s a whole different matter.”

“I’d tell you I tried to stay short for your sake, but it would be a lie,” Reinhard said.

“Will you be mad if I cry during your graduation speech?” she asked.

“Why would I be mad at that?”

“Because I’d be making a fool of myself in public.”

“Since you allow me my weaknesses, I’ll allow you yours,” Reinhard said with a smile. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and they headed off down the street. “We can waste our time feeling nostalgic and sentimental now. Get it out of our systems, since we won’t have time later.”

“No room for nostalgia when you’re on a ship on the front lines?” Annerose asked.

“Seems like a dangerous distraction.”

“I’m afraid it’s unlikely that I’ll be able to put you entirely from my mind when I’m out and about,” Annerose said.

Although that was a worrying thought, Reinhard couldn’t help but feel slightly pleased. “I’ll admit that I spent quite a lot of time thinking about you while I was trapped on the Falke with Fredrica.”

Annerose smiled. “We spent a lot of time thinking about each other then, that’s for sure.”

“Hah. I don't want you to have to worry about me.”

“I can’t help it. It’s my job.” They arrived in front of the academy’s gates, where they both stopped. “I’ll see you at graduation tomorrow,” Annerose said. 

“Say hi to Jessica for me,” Reinhard said. Annerose was staying at her house during her visit. 

“I will.” She paused for a moment and looked him over one last time, his hair catching in the sun, almost blinding in its intensity. “It’s like I’m looking at you now, and you’re just my brother, but tomorrow you’ll be something else entirely.”

He smiled. “You’re being silly now.”

“I’m just trying to keep you somewhere where I can still reach. But I know that’s impossible.” She ran her hand down his arm, as though reassuring herself that he was there and real. Reinhard smiled, trying to cheer her up, though her voice and the corners of her eyes indicated that she was close to tears. “There’s nothing that will stand in your way.”

“I’ll still be me, and you’ll still be you. No matter what, that won’t change.”

“Not even when you have everything you want?”

“What I want involves making you happy, too,” Reinhard reassured her. 

Annerose hugged him again. “I know. I know.”

**End of Part Two**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to play an elaborate game of compare and contrast.
> 
> Anyway, that's the end of this part. Join me next time when we go back to see what Yang Wen-li has been up to in the Empire. My best friend/patient beta reader Lydia is very excited to go back to him lmao. We are Yang Wen-li stans first and human beings second.
> 
> I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this whole part as a whole. I think that part 1 (Speaking in Tongues) was a lot more thematically/emotionally consistent, and better paced. I'm probably? going to heavily edit this part at some point to make it better. If you have any suggestions, major or minor, feel free to let me know. I'm always looking to improve. 
> 
> Well, we'll see how part 3 goes.
> 
> Oh, this has no bearing on anything, but it's a funny anecdote so I figured I'd share it, since I love nothing more than writing rambling author's notes: earlier this week, I was chilling in my house, passed out, and smashed my head open on my coffee table lmao. I had to go to the hospital and get 12 forehead stitches. (I am completely fine do not worry.) Anyway I'm going to have a giant anime character-esque eyebrow scar for the rest of my life probably haha. Vote now on your phones which character should get a similar (though acquired in a less stupid way) wound scar :p
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and sticking with me on this wild ride. I really appreciate you all so much <3
> 
> As usual: thank you to Lydia for the beta read, more weird creepy religion in my original science fiction @ bit.ly/shadowofheaven , more fraught conversations about what you're going to do when you graduate college in my contemporary mystery story @ bit.ly/arcadispark . you can find me personally as @javert on tumblr or @natsinator on twitter.


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